


Get Hurt

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Apologies, Best Friends, Body Image, Boys Kissing, Concerts, Control, Control Issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Developing Relationship, Disobeying Orders, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face Slapping, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay For You, Groping, Guilt, Hotel Sex, Hotels, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Jealousy, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Control, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Ownership, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Roommates, Running, Sexuality, Sexuality Crisis, Sharing a Bed, Sleep, Sleep Deprivation, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Snogging, Spanking, Suspicions, Television Watching, Tour Bus, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 70,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3671196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kian is beginning to worry about Mark's constant absences and tries to take matters into his own hands.  So starts a two-year journey where he will discover more about himself and Mark than he ever wanted to know.</p><p>Possible triggers for depression & anxiety disorders and controlling relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Scared to make a connection, afraid to break down the walls**

**It couldn't be any harder, should be no sweat at all**

 

Mark was having another fucking breakdown.

Kian had been witness to more than a few of them in his time. They more or less started the same. He'd start getting up later, first of all. Mark always loved a good sleep-in, they all did, but this wasn't a bit of a grumble and few extra snooze-buttons. It was an almost despondent inability to just get the fuck up, made more difficult by the fact that Mark always had his own room. Which was fine. They were an odd number, and nobody wanted to put up with him playing the TV all night, but it meant it took just that little bit longer to notice the signs.

Like the red, tired eyes, the slightly trembling hands. The way Mark would look startled if you spoke to him directly. That he'd start to complain of stomach-ache or headaches and excuse himself from the table, and Kian and Shane would exchange a silent look, a futile promise to keep an eye out before things got bad, like there was anything they could do.

You couldn't talk to him, couldn't get any explanation other than he 'didn't feel well', but Kian had caught him too many times curled up in the corner of his room under a blanket, shaking and yelling at Kian to get the fuck out, he was _fine_ , just mind your own business, and Kian had nodded, told him he was there if Mark wanted to talk, and fled the room, feeling totally useless.

It had happened a lot when they were at school. Unexplained absences, coming back to class three days later, pale and conspicuously quiet. The teachers would leave him alone for a bit, then eventually things would get back to normal. He'd be Mark again. Funny, sweet, slightly shy Mark, who had a seriously filthy mouth when he got going and only seemed really happy when he was singing.

Bryan and Nicky were starting to notice too. They hadn't known the two Dublin lads all that long, maybe a year now, and Mark had been fairly good in that time. The distraction of work, maybe, the thrill of their first number one, the craziness of filming videos and going to other countries and meeting people he'd always thought were untouchably famous.

But the cracks were there. When Mark had not gone out celebrating after they finished recording Swear It Again. Or a few weeks later when he had gone but had drunk too much and Kian had had to take him home. Had felt the trembling hands, seen the lost look in his eyes, and known – just known – that he'd have to make an excuse for Mark not appearing on the telly the next day. Bryan wanted to know why he had to cover for Mark's vocals, and all Kian could say was the usual 'not feeling well', exchange a look with Shane, ignore Nicky's raised eyebrow, and go check on Mark when they got back from the studio.

And now it was starting up again. Shane had noticed it first, had seen Mark getting distracted in the meeting with Simon. Kian hadn't been paying attention, was more focused on the fact that they were all getting another extended bollocking for various things. It didn't really matter what, there was always something, most of which they couldn't do anything about. Nicky's crooked teeth, Bryan saying something stupid in an interview, Shane and Kian looking tired on television. And Mark, would you go to the damn gym? You look fucking fat. Mark had nodded vaguely, looked down at the desk. Kian had wanted to say something, but then they were about to release their second single and this was Simon fucking Cowell. He'd glanced at Louis, but he had just nodded along, so there was no help there.

And that night when they went to dinner, Mark wasn't feeling well.

Kian ordered a salad, not wanting to be the next one railed out for not looking all that. It tasted cold and insubstantial. Shane was picking at a sandwich, Bryan loitering around the rather attractive hostess at the desk. Nicky looked up from his pasta.

“Is Mark okay?”  
  
“He's fine.” Shane sighed. “He's just...” He shook his head, glancing at Kian again. “He's fine.”

“Yeah, but...” Nicky bit his lip. Kian liked Nicky. The five of them had gotten awfully close over the last year, crammed in this little bubble together. It was strange, that lack of autonomy, the constant shuffling from bus to stage to television station to signing to bus... it was an odd sort of bonding experience, that the five of them had no lives together. Nicky got the closest to a normal life. He was a little bit older, had done his football thing before all this had started. He was only two years older, but it was just enough to make Kian feel totally immature and inexperienced in comparison. And Nicky had a girlfriend. A glamorous girlfriend that just happened to be the Taoiseach's daughter. Shane had a girlfriend too, but it was just Kian's cousin, so it wasn't like that counted. They couldn't even talk about her, anyway, not until she finished college.

“Don't worry.” Kian shrugged. “He's been doing this for years. He gets a bit overwhelmed, I think.” He did think, though honestly he didn't really know. Mark didn't talk about it. He just freaked out sometimes, and then he drifted back in again. “He's fine. I'll check on him later.”

“I can, if you want.” Shane pursed his lips. “You did it last time.”

“It's fine.” Kian looked at Nicky, who was back to poking at his pasta. “I think it's just the stress. He's overtired, you know? He's always been a bit...”

Shy? Nervous? Kian didn't know what it was, but it was happening more lately and he was starting to get worried. It hadn't affected anything serious, not yet, but there was really no telling when these things would happen. They were supposed to be going to Asia for a few weeks, and the schedule was crammed. Performances, press, all in a foreign country where they might not speak the language half the time.

“It's not going to be a problem, is it?” Nicky asked.

“No.” Kian pushed his salad away, considered going back upstairs and ordering something really greasy from room service so he could eat it where no-one could see him. Then decided he didn't care that much and flagged a waitress to bring him a burger and fries. Bryan came back to the table and asked if Mark was coming down. All three of them shook their heads.

The last year hadn't been easy on any of them. Kian knew that. He'd had to more-or-less kick three of his best friends out of a band they'd started, make more compromises than he'd ever thought he'd be comfortable with. His clothes, his hair... he'd been more clean-cut, though his mam had always raised him to be polite to people and not embarrass himself in public, but he had the distinct feeling he was missing out on some fundamental experience of being nineteen and single. Like he was being shepherded. There was a certain safety in that, he supposed. That he was told what to do and how to be, but he did miss the control. Being able to leave the house whenever he wanted, go down the street, have a pint, come back, and know that no-one had missed him or expected him to be somewhere.

There was money. A lot more of it than he'd expected, but he'd hardly spent it. Felt wrong about doing it when he'd been subsisting on minimum wage for so long, his parents wages split between keeping seven children fed and clothed and warm. Shane wanted to buy a car, and Nicky did too, something flash and silly. Bryan kept buying stupid things like scooters and remote control helicopters and video cameras, but Kian couldn't bring himself to do it. Felt like maybe it was a mistake, that it was all going to be taken away in a moment, that someone somewhere would realise that they'd picked the wrong guy. So he watched it mount up and then felt guilty when he bought a new pair of trainers to replace his old, wrecked ones and sent the rest home to his mother, because he didn't know how to look at that many zeroes without having a panic attack.

Dinner finished. Shane got a call from Gillian, Nicky called Georgina, and Bryan went to have another go at the hostess, who looked like she was about ready to slap him.

So Kian went back upstairs to check on Mark.

It wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Mark was watching television, wearing a t-shirt that had to be three sizes too big. He looked small in it, sort of pale against the black cotton in the dimly lit room. Kian sank down next to him, felt Mark shrink away for a second, then settle.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark replied. There was something on the screen. Something banal and pointless that Kian suspected Mark hadn't actually been watching. “How was dinner?”

“Fine. Have you eaten yet?”

“No. Feel a bit sick.”

“Okay.” Kian nodded. “You weren't feeling well last week. Everything okay?”  
  
“Fine. Must have eaten something dodgy.” He always had. Kian didn't know how, considering Mark always ate basically the same thing they all did. “I'm going to go to bed in a minute, so...”

“Yeah.” Kian got the hint, didn't want to. He looked over. Took in big, tired eyes that seemed not to focus on anything in particular. “Bryan's been snoring. Do you mind if I kip in with you?”

“I'll have the TV on.”

“That's fine.” Kian shrugged. “I've not been sleeping well, not with him sounding like a lawnmower. I'd really appreciate it.”

He felt Mark hesitate, felt the battle to find a reason to say no, something that wouldn't reveal whatever Mark was trying not to say. Kian sat back, tried to seem nonchalant.

He didn't usually do this, this intrusion into whatever the hell Mark was doing. But it was hard not to. Curiosity, maybe. But mostly he just wanted to step in before something happened. This wasn't getting any better, and Kian didn't know how much longer it could go on before it wasn't just Nicky noticing, before it was Louis and Simon and the scant fans they'd managed to accumulate on the Smash Hits tour and supporting Boyzone. Before people began to notice that the guy that did over a third of the singing was increasingly AWOL, or not on his game, or sort of pale, come to think of it.

He knew, objectively, that if he went missing himself it wouldn't be such a big deal – had always felt sort of inadequate by comparison. Hell, he thought he'd be lucky if he got to sing lead on more than two tracks on the album. But Mark was the oomph. Shane was the easy, pop voice, Bryan was the growl, but Mark was the secret weapon, the high note to crack out on the bridge, to bring the whole thing home. They didn't sound right without him.

“Yeah, of course.” Mark said finally. “You can take the other bed.”

“Well, I wasn't going to snuggle up to you.” Kian joked, felt his heart lighten a little when he got a tentative smile back. “The fans'd riot.”

“They'd be jealous. They all fancy you.”

“Do they? I hadn't noticed.” He had, sort of, saw the signs at the gigs, the ones that said really filthy things for girls that couldn't be older than sixteen. Admittedly, he knew what he'd been thinking at sixteen, but he would never have painted it on a bit of cardboard and held it up for the whole world to see. It felt weird, anyway, having people fancy him when he didn't even know them, couldn't do anything in return, no matter how pretty some of them might be. Some of them were mingers, though, or twice his age, so there was always a silver lining.

He leaned over, put a hand on Mark's shoulder, trying to seem casual. Blue eyes turned on him, something swimming behind that gaze. Kian smiled, squeezing slightly.

“You looking forward to Asia?”

“I guess, yeah.” Mark nodded. “It's strange how fast this has all happened, though. Like, we're going to the other side of the world. How does that even...?” He shook his head. “I don't know. It's a lot to take in.”

“Pretty Japanese girls, though.”

“One track mind?” Mark smirked. “You'll be lucky if they speak English.”  
  
“Snogging's universal.” Kian laughed, nudging his friend lightly. “If they'll let us.”

“I doubt Louis' going to be able to stand over your shoulder and make sure you don't snog a cute Japanese girl.”

“I wouldn't put it past him.”

“No, me either.” Mark lay back on the bed, suddenly, flopping backwards onto the mattress. Kian flopped with him, grinning when Mark turned his head to look at him. “Hello.”

“Hey.” Kian laughed, reaching out to punch Mark lightly on the arm. “Are you sure you're not hungry?”

“I'm fine. I shouldn't anyway. I need the gym.”

“Apparently.” Kian rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you're fine. There's nothing wrong with you.” He appraised Mark quickly. He was probably a bit chubby around the middle, but his face was mostly teeth and eyes. He looked strained, maybe, a little bit hollow. It was just puppy fat, though. Kian had a feeling it wouldn't last long, was melting away since Mark's last growth spurt a few years ago. He'd shot up all of a sudden, despite never being that short to start with, was suddenly towering above Kian while the blonde tried to catch up.

“Yeah. It's all a bit...” Mark's hands gestured, though at what Kian wasn't sure. “I don't know. I don't think I've ever had so many people telling me I was useless in my life.”

“You're not useless.” Kian shook his head, reaching out to turn the television down a bit. “Honestly, if they didn't think you were worth it, you wouldn't be here.” It was something he tried to tell himself on a daily basis, or go mad from insecurity. “They're only hard on you because they know they'd be lost without you. Without that massive voice.” He reached out, poking Mark gently in the throat. “Honestly, blow them away, and then it won't matter if you're bald, ugly, or inside out.”

“I'd just end up in make-up for another two hours.” Mark sat up again, so Kian followed, crossing his legs on the sheets. “It's funny. I never think I look like me in the photos. Like, especially the ones yesterday. I looked the wrong colour or something, or like I was taller than usual or...”

“It's all lighting and make-up.”

“I know. That's the thing. All of a sudden it felt like it was happening to someone else, whoever the lad in the picture was. I wasn't even sure why I was there. It feels like a mistake.”

“It's not.” Kian reached out to put an arm around shoulders, felt him flinch back slightly before accepting it. “All those songs they're finding for us, when I listen to them all I think is... that's the bit where Mark has to go. They'd be pointless without you. We need you.”

“Yeah.” Mark drew his knees up to his chest, rested his chin on top. He stared at the television. “Okay.” He huffed out a breath. “I'm going to go have a shower and then go to bed. Are you going out with the lads? I can give you my room key...”

“No, I think Shane and Nicky are going to be talking to their girlfriends all night.” Kian rolled his eyes. He wasn't sure what Bryan was planning on doing, but it was probably something loud and mental, and Kian didn't know that he had the energy. “I'll watch some TV and go to sleep.”

Mark looked at him, looked like he was about to say something. Then he shook his head and stood up, heading for his suitcase. Grabbed his pyjamas, zipped it closed again.

“Ki...”

“Yeah?” Kian looked up. Mark was stood in the bathroom door, his pyjama bottoms dangling from one hand. He looked small, silhouetted by the light bouncing off the tiles behind him. Kian smiled, turned towards him, saw Mark pull away. Just a little, barely noticeable.

“No. Nothing.” Mark shook his head, stepped back.

The bathroom door closed a moment later.

 

*

 

When Kian woke up it was dark. The curtains were drawn, but he could just see by the light of the television, playing a late night infomercial where some actor from the eighties was trying to show a woman with a fake smile how these knives could cut through a tin can. He rolled over, pressed his face into the pillow, pulled the blanket up over his head, then realised he needed to pee.

The lights of the bathroom were way too bright, and he turned them back off again to avoid waking Mark. Not that it would – the boy could sleep on a nail – but he'd seen Mark's face when he'd come out of the shower that evening, his eyes tired. Kian thought he'd fallen asleep quite quickly, though with the blanket over his head it was hard to tell. So Kian had watched some television then turned in himself.

They were supposed to be on the radio in the morning, talking up If I Let You Go. Kian liked the song, they'd gone to Tenerife to film a video, which had been pretty amazing, mostly because he'd gotten to hang out on the beach once it was done, watch all the surfers and the pretty Spanish girls go past in their bikinis. He'd thought about hiring a surfboard, maybe giving it a go, but he had no idea where to start and no time to take lessons, so he'd ended up just swimming out, mucking around in the waves for a bit. It had been lovely. Nicky had joined him, and Bryan had barrelled in as well, started a splash fight with Shane while the others looked on and laughed, Mark sat on the sand reapplying sunscreen every five minutes and looking sweaty in a black t-shirt and long shorts.

He glanced at the clock. Past two in the morning. He finished off, then climbed back into bed, tugging the blankets over his head to block out the TV.

He heard Mark shift in his sleep, then roll over, but when Kian looked over his eyes were still tightly closed, the blanket covering most of his face. He saw Mark's forehead pinch for a second, then relax, the duvet pulled tighter.

Kian watched.

He didn't know what it was that made him do it. Some sort of reassurance, maybe, to make sure that Mark was really all right, but he reached out. Put his hand on Mark's bed. Not on him, personally, just a light touch on the mattress.

Mark mumbled something, and a moment later Kian realised the mattress was shaking slightly under his hand. He looked up, at dark hair that drew further into the cocoon of the bed, and realised the whole thing was quivering.

He sat up, moved over to sit on Mark's bed. Considered peeling the blankets back from his face a little but decided against it, not wanting to wake him. Mark was shivering, though, great wracking shivers. Kian reached out, felt soft hair under his fingers, the sweat caught underneath. Heard Mark sob, just softly.

“Marky?” He whispered. There was no response. He was asleep, his eyes squeezed tight while he trembled. Kian tried to stroke his hair, tried to calm him without getting all weird and climbing into bed with him. He lay down alongside him instead, not sure what else to do, and awkwardly patted his shoulder, felt the flinch, the shudder, another small sob. “Mark... hey...”

And that was all he had. He didn't know what to do, what it was that was going on here. Whether this was something that happened all the time when Mark had one of his freakouts, or whether there was something genuinely wrong. If he was supposed to wake Mark up, or if that would just make it worse.

But eventually he felt Mark began to calm, the trembling slowing until it was just the occasional convulsive jerk, like he'd felt a spider on his leg or something. Then that, too, stopped, and Kian watched him calm again, the grip on the duvet relaxing until Kian could see his whole face, flushed red cheeks and parted, trembling lips. His eyes squeezed tighter for a moment, then relaxed, and he snuggled his face down into his arm, huffed out a breath, and appeared to go back to sleep.

 

*

 

When Kian woke again, Mark was still asleep. Properly asleep, laid on his back, the sheets around his waist, shirt twisted to reveal a hip, mouth wide open. It wasn't a new sight. They'd slept over at each others' houses often enough when they were younger, and all of them had taken a few naps on the bus in the past year, but it was still sort of comforting. Mark looked more relaxed than he had the night before, and Kian hoped it was a good sign, that maybe he'd been managed to stave this thing off somehow, if only temporarily.

He went to shower, and when he came back out Mark was awake, if not all that alert, was sitting on the end of the bed looking blearily at morning cartoons.

“Morning.”

“Hey.” Mark nodded. He was dressed in jeans and a baggy t-shirt, was pulling on his socks. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Fine, yeah.” Kian opted to omit the rather disconcerting shaking episode from last night. A nightmare or something, maybe. No point bringing it up. “Did you?”

“Think so.” Mark reached out to snag one of his shoes, dragging it towards himself by the laces. He started to pull it on. “Sorry if I woke you. I tend to... snore.” He said it lightly, but Kian didn't miss the slight hesitation. “I didn't wake you?”

“No, it was fine.” Kian paused. “You... uh... feeling better this morning?”

“Yeah.” He paused to let out a long, gaping yawn. He seemed back to his old self. Sweet, funny, shyish Mark. “Dying for some breakfast, though, and a cup of tea.”

Kian patted his stomach, felt it growl.

“Sounds like a plan.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Between who you are and who you could be**

**Between how it is and how it should be**

 

The first time Kian had been on the television he'd rung everyone he knew, got his mam to record it, and spent the whole thing with his tongue in his throat, hoping he wouldn't spill anything on his shirt or make a twat of himself. Now it was just a thing he did. He'd gotten sick of it, saying the same things, asking the same questions, trying to look wholesome and answer politely. His mam still recorded most of them, but he didn't bother to watch them. They were all the same.

“I'm not sure about this jacket.”

“It's fine.” Kian leaned back on the green-room couch, looking at Shane adjust a leather jacket he'd been handed by wardrobe. It wasn't a great jacket, but it wasn't outright offensive. They'd definitely had to wear worse over the last year, and at least this didn't have bloody rhinestones or something on it.

“Yeah.” Shane tugged at the collar, got a filthy look from the stylist when he ran his fingers through the hair that had just been tidied. “Is this the last one, or...?”

“No, Pepsi Charts tonight.” Kian reminded him. Shane sank down onto the couch next to him. Mark was over getting his make-up done, was laughing at something Nicky was saying.

“He's been okay for a bit.” Shane said quietly. Kian nodded. He had. He hadn't told Shane about what had happened a few months before when he'd stayed in Mark's room. He didn't know how to explain it – it felt so small and hard to define. The trembling, the pinched face, the soft, mumbling whimpers. A nightmare. That was all. Mark had been okay since then, had seemed totally upbeat, had been a joy through the whole Asian tour, even seemed to be coming out of his shell a little bit, would talk happily on the television and didn't look like he was hiding behind one of them half the time.

“Yeah, maybe he's just... growing out of it.” Kian glanced over, making sure they couldn't be heard. “We're all getting better at this. I didn't think I would, you know?”

“I know, it almost feels normal now.” Shane tugged at the neck of his jacket again, twisting it into place. “It's so weird. Like, I just sit down, they ask me some questions... It feels like I'm at a job interview or something, not on the telly. Except I already got the job, so I don't have to worry.”

Bryan ran past, on his way to somewhere. Kian didn't know where. He was great fun, but totally exhausting sometimes. Too much energy, always talking about nothing, making jokes and being loud and pointless. Kian watched him dash from the room, then dash back in a moment later.

“Lads, Atomic Kitten are here!”

“Are they?” Shane asked, disinterestedly. Bryan had a thing for one of the Kittens, was always checking to see if they were on the same bill. Kian liked them well enough, they were nice girls, but he was pretty sure Bryan was stalking them. “Go talk to them, then. We've still got twenty minutes.”

“Right.” Bryan ducked out and didn't return this time. Kian sighed, leaning back on the couch. Mark got up and Nicky took his place.

“Where'd Bryan go?”  
  
“Kerry's in the building.” Shane explained. Mark rolled his eyes, flopping down between the two of them. He felt relaxed, was warm and still against Kian's side, his breaths even and deep. Kian felt himself relax, not realising he'd been tense in the first place. There was just something about Mark, about not knowing when he'd set off next, that made him nervous.

It was tricky, because it didn't happen that often. More lately, yeah, but it was probably only one or two days out of every few months. But you never knew _when_ , like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It might have been selfish, but it was inconvenient, and Kian couldn't help but feel a little resentful of it, even when he was trying to protect or defend Mark from the other people that were being inconvenienced by it, while he himself was being inconvenienced too. Like it was his job to make sure nobody interrupted whatever it was Mark was doing while he was letting everyone down.

“You want to go get ratted after Pepsi tonight?” Mark asked.

“Sounds like a plan.” Kian agreed. Mark was smiling, had a laugh in his voice, and Kian was willing to indulge it as long as he needed to. “Shane?”

“Yeah, I'm in.” He raised his voice slightly. “Nicky?”  
  
“What?” Nicky called back, spitting when the powder brush went in his mouth.

“Get bladdered tonight?”

“What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing. Not until the evening.” Kian replied, when they all turned to look at him. He didn't know how it happened, but he'd managed to become de facto manager somehow, was the one who apparently knew all the information and remembered where they had to be. They did have a day off tomorrow, though, a bit of a respite after the madness of this week. The new single was going crazy and they'd been performing it on just about every show going in preparation for the official release next week. Two number ones in now, and there was talk that this would be their third. He couldn't believe it.

“Sounds good.” Nicky called back. They finished with him and he came over to slouch against the arm of the couch with the rest of them. “Can I call Georgina? I was supposed to go to lunch with her parents tomorrow, and we haven't had a night out in a bit.”

“Yeah, course.” Mark shrugged. “Lunch with the Taoiseach?” They all sniggered. It was a running joke, that Nicky was marrying into the government. Shane kept suggesting they get a law enacted that everyone in the country had to buy their new album when it came out next month. It was almost done, the vocals mostly laid down and the post-production under way.

“Yeah, piss off.” Nicky's scowl barely hid a smile, and they all nudged him. Bryan wandered back into the room, looking happy and flushed, and Kian rolled his eyes, heading over to get his face painted.

 

*

 

It wasn't fair to say that everyone was drunk, because there was a certain finality in that statement that prevented further drinking. Kian was more inclined to say that they were becoming increasingly intoxicated, which left a bit more room for the vodka and Red Bull that had just been deposited in front of him. They were scattered around a table, all with at least one drink in front of themselves. Nicky and Georgina were up on the dancefloor, though dancing wasn't exactly what they were doing, more of a general ongoing effort to try to crawl inside each other. Shane was looking at them wistfully, his gaze tinged by alcohol, and Mark and Bryan were snuggled up in the corner together, giggling over something.

“What are you looking at?” Kian asked.

“Bryan's sexting Kerry.” Mark laughed, nudging the blonde when he began to blush.

“I am not. She's just...” He looked down at his phone again, grinned, then put it away. “Nice lass. Says filthy things sometimes.”

“Understatement of the year.” Mark snorted.

“Stop peeking over my shoulder.”

“Stop sexting at the table!” Mark protested, then picked up his drink, smirking over the top of it. “Filthy gits. At least you're getting your end away. Good for you.”

“Not yet I'm not.” Bryan sighed, pulling his phone back out and beginning to tap out another message. “Haven't even gone out with her or anything. We just started to text a bit and then...” He pursed his lips, his fingers hovering over the keypad. “How d'ye spell tongue? Is there a U in it?”

“Last time I checked, yeah.” Shane laughed, grabbing his drink off the table. “Ooh, empty. Bollocks.”

“Mine too.” Mark sighed. “Next round's on me.” He stood up, climbed over Bryan to escape the booth. Nicky and Georgina were just coming back, their arms around each other and giggling drunkenly. They slid into the booth, and Kian shuffled around to give them room, shoving Shane around to sit next to Bryan. Nicky plonked down beside him, reaching out to snag a handful of peanuts out of the bowl on the table.

“You're brave, eating those.” Shane observed.

“Yeah, well...” Nicky shrugged, beginning to eat them out of his hand, one-by-one. He turned around to look at Mark, who had his back to them over at the bar. “He seems better.”

“Yeah, it doesn't happen often.” Shane sighed. Georgina didn't look at all confused by this conversation, so Kian assumed Nicky had told her about Mark's... lapses. He told her bloody everything else. Not for the first time, Kian wondered what it would be like, having someone permanent like that, someone you could tell everything to. “Sorry.”

“Hey, it's not a problem.” Nicky reached for another handful of peanuts. “This has all been mental, you know? It'd be weird if we were all coping all the time. God knows I've called my mam in tears a few times.”

“Have you?” Shane looked surprised.

“Course. And Georgina. What, this all seems totally normal to you?”

Kian shook his head. He'd be lying if he hadn't had a freak out, especially there at the beginning, when the nerves had gotten to him and it had felt like the butterflies in his stomach were getting eaten by the snakes that had suddenly shown up. He'd soldiered through it, though, bitten it back and gotten on with the job.

“I got the shits before we went on Party in the Park last year.” Bryan said suddenly. “I said it was food poisoning, but it wasn't. I was literally shitting myself with fear.” Kian remembered that, vaguely, when Bryan had been back and forth to the toilet all day, complaining about a dodgy kebab, and they'd all been worried he wouldn't be able to go on.

“I um...” Shane laughed, shook his head, then began to fish a piece of ice out of his empty glass with his fingers. He popped it in his mouth and began to suck on it, his smile small and embarrassed while the ice moved in his cheek. “I threw up before we went on The Late Late Show the first time. I just couldn't fucking believe it, you know? Threw up in the toilets, then went straight out to sing.”

“You didn't say.”

Shane shrugged. “Didn't want to make a fuss. And it was fine. I was fine.” He grabbed another piece of ice, and Kian heard it crunch between his teeth.

Georgina smiled sympathetically, her hand entwining with Nicky's. “It must be harder for Mark, though.”

“Why's that?” Bryan asked. “What, because he's the youngest or something?”

“No, because he's gay.” She paused, her face pinching confusedly when she realised they were all staring at her. Kian blinked at her, not sure what to say. “Erm... he's gay, right?” She looked at Nicky. “You said he was gay.”

“I didn't say...” Nicky glanced over his shoulder. Mark was still at the bar, trying to get around a gaggle of excitable girls who had created a wall around the bartender. “She asked if he was and I said I didn't know, but I sort of had a feeling.” He looked around at the rest of them. “Oh, come on. You lads have known him since he was twelve. And you've never thought...”

“No.” Shane twisted to look at Mark, who had finally managed to get up to the counter. He was gesturing and nodding. Kian squinted, trying to figure out if he'd missed something. “What feeling?”

“Just... you know.” Nicky shrugged. “I don't know. It's just a vibe I get. I don't care. I get why he wouldn't want to say anything, not at the moment. We're not even supposed to have girlfriends, not really, so he's not going to go telling everyone he fancies blokes.” He glanced at Georgina. “She said it first, not me. He never chats up girls or anything.”

“He's just shy.” Kian said.

“He's not, though. Not really.” Bryan cut in. “Like, he's a bit quiet at first, but he's not exactly a wilting flower, not when you get to know him.” They were all staring at Mark now, and when the younger boy turned back around with a delicately balanced handful of drinks, he stopped for a second, obviously catching them all looking. Kian looked away, saw Bryan pull his phone back out and Shane begin to look nonchalant.

“Erm... drinks?” Mark put down the glasses, and Kian reached for his, glancing up and meeting big blue eyes that were a little hazy with alcohol. “What did I miss?” He slid back into the booth next to Bryan again, getting a slap when he tried to peer back over at the screen again. “Pussy has a Y, not an IE.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Bryan rolled his eyes, pocketing his phone again. Mark snorted, reaching for his drink. Kian stared at him, not sure what to think.

 

*

 

“Kian. Kian.” Mark kept trying to get his attention. He was standing against the wall of the lift, looking blankly at his hands. “Kian.”

“Yeah?”

“Ehm...” Then Mark started to laugh, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Dunno.” He began to sink down the mirrored wall, and Kian stepped in to prop him up, not wanting to have to drag him up off the ground when they reached their floor. An arm came around his shoulders, and Kian felt his knees buckle a little bit when he ended up with Mark's whole weight leant on him. A face leant into his shoulder, and he felt Mark giggle.

“Having a good time?”

“Yeah.” Mark pushed back, grinned. “I'm really, really drunk.”

“Congratulations.” Kian snorted, He wasn't at all surprised. They'd all been putting them away. Georgina and Nicky had bailed early, all tangled up in each other. Shane and Bryan had gotten lost at some point, though the last time Kian had seen them they'd been leant over Bryan's phone, brainstorming filthy things to say to Kerry. Shane was surprisingly good at it, which was a little disconcerting considering he'd had Kian's own bloody cousin to practice on, but Bryan seemed impressed. Then Mark had thrown up in a rubbish bin outside the club, and Kian had figured it was probably time to get a move-on.

“My mouth tastes gross.”

“You threw up in the street.”

“Did I? That's fantastic.” Mark poked his tongue out, then crossed his eyes trying to look at it. The lift doors opened. Kian pushed Mark through, nudging him down the hall to his room. He helped Mark open his own door, and shoved him gently inside.

“You right to get to bed?”

“Yes.” Mark pouted, then crossed his eyes again. Giggled. “Night.”

“Goodnight.” Kian put a hand on his shoulder, bent to get in his eyeline. Mark's eyes uncrossed, and for a moment their eyes locked. Kian smiled, looking up at him. “You need to have a big glass of water before bed.”

“Yes mam.”

“Mark...” Kian knew he was being a coddler, but he knew how this played out too well. Mark would fall into bed and wake up the next morning on the floor of the bathroom in a pool of his own vomit with a raging headache, then Kian would have to hear about it. “Big glass of water.”

“Big glass of water.” Mark repeated petulantly, his face twisting into a scowl.

“Promise?”

“Yes...” Mark huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. Kian laughed, nudging him gently into the room. “Goodnight Kian.”

Kian wished him goodnight again, then headed back to his and Bryan's room. He was thwarted, though, when he saw Bryan asleep, his phone still in his hand, and Shane conked out on the other bed, facedown and drooling into the pillow. He sighed, backing away, and went to go see if he could kip in with Nicky. He had raised his hand, all ready to knock, and then he heard something. Something that made his cheeks flush slightly, and his cock twitch traitorously in his jeans.

Apparently Georgina was a bit of a screamer.

He lowered his hand, leaning back against the opposite wall in the hall. Glanced at his watch. Almost three in the morning. He'd need to get some bloody sleep sooner or later, and that only left...

Mark opened the door again in his boxers, one hand rubbing his eyes sleepily. Kian explained the situation quickly, but he wasn't entirely sure Mark really understood what he was saying until he nodded and stepped back, letting him through. He climbed into the other bed quickly, smiled encouragingly when he saw Mark fill a glass with water and gulp it quickly. Then Mark climbed into his bed, made a sleepy, stretching groan, and turned out the lights.

 

*

 

When Kian woke up, Mark was throwing up in the bathroom.

He smirked and pushed himself awkwardly out of bed, feeling the sudden, hungover sway of the room, and covered his mouth to make sure he wasn't going to be joining his friend over the toilet. It seemed okay, though. He just felt painfully seedy, his mouth dry and stomach empty and heavy.

“You okay?”

Mark was slumped next to the toilet, his face pale. As Kian watched he leaned over the bowl again, gurgled out something like a burp, and retched, choking out ribbons of spit.

“Want a glass of water?”

Mark nodded, so Kian turned to the sink and filled a glass, crouching down next to Mark, felt shaking hands take it.

“How long you been doing this for?”

Mark swirled water round his mouth, spat it out in the toilet. Then took another sip and swallowed.

“An hour? Maybe? Urgh.” He wiped his mouth, turned a small, regretful smile on Kian. “How you feeling?”

“Better than you.” Kian laughed, leaning back against the wall next to his friend, putting his arm around trembling shoulders. “I'm not the idiot who threw up in the street, though.”

“Did I? That's fantastic.” Mark laughed, leaning into Kian's shoulder. “Top night, then.”  
  
“It was.” Kian snorted, patting his arm. “Let me know if you're going to throw up again so I can get out of the way.”

“Deal.” Mark yawned, lifting his hand to cover his mouth. “Are we doing things today?”

“Nothing planned.”

“I'm going to sleep, then.” Mark pushed away from the wall, trying to get to his feet, but failed miserably. Kian stood, pulling him up. A heavy frame slumped against him for a second until Mark found his feet. They headed back to the bed, and Kian helped him in, tucked him in once he was under the blankets. Mark smiled, yawned, and snuggled down. Kian touched his shoulder, laughing when Mark looked up, his eyes blinking innocently over the top of the blankets. “You tucking me in?”  
  
“Piss off.” Kian nudged him lightly, headed back towards his own bed. It was only eight so there was no point going back to his own bed yet, not if Shane and Bryan were still there. He tugged the blankets up, pressed his head into the pillow. Heard Mark yawn, then settle.

Kian closed his eyes, feeling sleep itch at them.

 

*

 

When he woke again Mark was asleep. He sat up in bed, leaned against the headboard. It was almost one in the afternoon, according to the alarm clock beside the bed. He stretched, rubbing his eyes.

He felt... better.

He hadn't realised that he'd felt bad, but now, with about ten hours of sleep under his belt, he knew that he'd gotten overtired without realising it. Their schedule packed too tight, too many early mornings and late nights and shuffling from place to place. Just being around people all the time, living lives that weren't their own. Struggling to say the right thing and always having to _think_ about everything they did instead of just doing it. It was exhausting. Not in a breathless, fast-paced sort of way, just in a way that was slow and unnoticeable, that ground constantly at his energy and his thoughts.

He glanced over at Mark. He was asleep, lain on his front with his hand curled up gently under parted lips. He looked peaceful, far from the persistent tiredness that Kian hadn't realised was crouching behind blue, bewildered eyes.

Maybe it was easier for the others. Nicky and Shane had their girlfriends, and Bryan appeared to be focused on Kerry at the moment. An outlet or something. Not just that, maybe. The responsibility. Kian didn't know how it had happened, but everybody seemed to be looking to him all the time to tell them what to do and where to be. He supposed he'd brought it on himself, but it was too hard to sit by and watch their collective lack of direction, while they milled about and bumped into each other like chickens in a coop. They weren't idiots, but they seemed to be quite happy to do what they were told, even when it didn't make sense, and Kian had somehow ended up elected the one who had to deal with all that crap. Their babysitter.

Mark rolled onto his back, and for a moment Kian thought he'd woken. But he just flopped over and kept on sleeping, his breath coming out in a slight exhausted wheeze.

Maybe he needed a girlfriend or something. Something like Nicky had, someone who he could talk to if he needed to, who wasn't his mother. But it all just seemed like more work. Like having to think of a whole other person when he was trying to think about so much already. He'd seen how hard it had been on Shane, sneaking around and being away from Gillian for long stretches at a time, getting in phone calls when he could and making covert trips to visit her in college when they were close enough to home and had enough free time.

And Mark...

Kian paused, last night coming back with a sudden rush of clarity. It was harder on him, Georgina had said.

Because he was gay.

Kian blinked, turned to look at Mark again. He'd almost forgotten. What Georgina had said, how they had all sat around waiting for Mark to bring the drinks back, discussing...

It had never even occurred to him. That Mark could be gay. It just wasn't something that he'd even considered. He didn't know that he had a problem with it, exactly, it was just so outside of his own scope. He was from a small town, didn't know anybody directly who was gay, though he guessed there were some around and he just didn't realise, or hadn't spared it much thought. It was one of those things that happened, but not to him.

But he supposed he could see how people might think that. About Mark anyway. He was a nice kid, sort of reserved, not emotional in any outward way but had always radiated a sort of... vulnerability. He'd been bullied a bit at school, not for any particular reason, but just because he was a bit different. Quieter, kinder, maybe a bit immature when he was younger. He was pretty, in an awkward sort of way, never seemed to have that much luck with girls. Yeah, he'd snogged one or two from time to time, but nothing had ever come of it and Kian couldn't remember him having a girlfriend as such.

That didn't make him gay, though.

Anyway, what was he supposed to do? Go rummaging through his suitcase and hope that he had gay porn in there?

“Oh. Fuck.” He heard a mumble, looked over to see blue eyes open slowly. Mark coughed, shut his eyes again. Kian laughed.

Mark got up slowly, looked like he was barely on the planet. Kian stumbled into the shower, and when he came out he at least felt like a human being again. Mark went next, and Kian ducked back to his own room to grab a change of clothes. Their room was empty, and when he checked his phone there was a message letting him know that Bryan and Shane had gone to get breakfast. It was from almost three hours before, so that was no help. He put on a clean pair of jeans and headed back, settling back down on Mark's bed to wait for the younger boy to emerge.

They went to the McDonalds down the street. Nobody recognised them, though he supposed there was only the two of them. He didn't think they were famous really. People seemed to know their songs, they'd sold enough copies, but nobody knew their faces, not unless all five of them were together. It wasn't like Backstreet Boys or someone, where people who weren't even fans would see Nick Carter on the street and know who he was.

He didn't know if they would ever be like that. Wasn't arrogant enough to think they were going to be superstars of any kind. Louis was pushing for it though, trying to get their faces out there like mad. They had fans now. Actual fans. Like, people who would stand outside CD:UK and wait for them to come out. Them specifically. Who'd want them to sign things like Kian's signature was actually worth something to anybody.

He studied Mark while they ate. Tried to see it. Whatever Nicky and Georgina said they had a feeling of. Couldn't see anything but Mark. Plain old boring Mark, who he'd been friends with for years, who had slept over at his house and hung out with him while they were waiting backstage at the musicals. Watched Mark accidentally spill the crappy lettuce from his Big Mac onto the tray when he lifted it to his mouth, and then laugh, dusting crumbs off his shirt. Then they headed back to the hotel, Mark making some moan about how he shouldn't have eaten that crap with Simon on his back about his weight, and Kian pointing out that he'd thrown up so much that morning that it probably evened out.

Maybe they were wrong. Maybe Mark wasn't gay.

And even if he was, who gave a shit?

He wasn't sure if he gave a shit. Wasn't sure what any of it meant. If it meant anything at all. If it would change anything, how he'd feel about it. If it was the fact that Mark might be gay, or the fact that he might have hidden it. If it meant Mark was a different person than Kian had been led to believe.

A pretty girl walked past. Kian pointed her out, not sure what response he expected. Mark turned to look, nodded, then turned back to Kian, his eyes sparkling.

“So go chat her up.”

Which was no bloody help at all.

He didn't fucking know.

Maybe Nicky was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**I saw you crying, I started crying**

**Because we're all in this together**

 

Kian was in another fucking meeting with Louis.

He didn't know how he managed to get roped into these things. It was always his job, apparently, to be the one who got yelled at and then had to go yell at the others. This meeting was an impromptu one, being held rather quietly in the hallway of the studios while the others were busy putting the last vocals on the Christmas single. Shane was singing in the booth and the others were milling around looking bored, while Kian stood out in the hall and got yelled at.

“I don't see how it's my responsibility to...”  
  
“They listen to you.” Louis cut him off. It was always the same story. They listened to him. Then he got to be the bad guy, the one who Bryan had gotten into a strop with last week when Kian had to tell him to rein in his attitude, the one who got the dirty looks when he had to tell Shane that he looked tired and needed to get more sleep (and where he was supposed to fit that into this crazy schedule Louis had them on, he didn't know).

“Yeah, fine.” Kian looked down at his feet, shuffling them. “I'll talk to Mark.”

“It's all I'm asking. I'm just looking out for your best interests.” Louis put a hand on his shoulder. And now Kian got to feel like he was being ungrateful. Great. “He's your friend. He'll listen to you.”

He really didn't want to do this. Didn't want to be the bad guy. The one who had to sit Mark down and give him a laundry list of everything that was wrong with him. That his dancing was shit, that he had put on weight, that he wasn't speaking up enough in television interviews, that he wasn't playing up the crowd enough, that he needed to focus more on his vocals and not go off warbling, that he'd been absent too many times now.

He had, a bit. It had happened again. Not in anything obvious, he'd been there for all the interviews and performances, but he'd had to bail on a meet-and-greet the week before, and had spent half the single launch for Flying Without Wings in the toilets before going home early, his face drawn and sick when he'd made his excuses and waved them goodbye.

Third number one. Jesus. The album was about to launch as well. It was all done. Pressed and packed and sitting in a warehouse somewhere. They were singing bloody ABBA now, a song Simon wanted as a double-A side with Seasons in the Sun. And there was a one-two punch of lacklustre shit.

So when they got back to the hotel Kian got to sit Mark down on his bed and tell him he was totally inadequate.

It was awful. Made more awful by the fact that Mark barely reacted. Just stared down at his hands and nodded quietly. Kian tried to make it upbeat. Tried to suggest they go to the gym together, that Bryan was fatter anyway and got away with it because he was the funny one. Tried to say that he didn't think there was a real problem, that Louis was just overreacting and maybe they could just play along until he let it go. That they were all terrible dancers, and Kian was happy to go through the moves with him again whenever he liked.

What he couldn't say was that Mark's increasing absences were fine. That it wasn't affecting them. That he was worried that all this would only make it worse.

“I'm sorry.” Mark said, once it was all over. His voice was soft and flat, fingers twisting in his lap. Kian crouched down, put a hand over his.

“No, I am.” Kian sighed. “I'm really sorry. This isn't fair.”

“He doesn't like me. Louis.” Mark shook his head. “It's not going to get any better, is it? Maybe...” He swallowed, his eyes stubbornly avoiding Kian's. “Maybe I should just quit.”

“No, god...” Kian reached up, forced his friend into a hug, felt the stiffness in his shoulders and ignored it. “Don't you dare. We need you.”

“You don't, though. I'm just letting everyone down.” When Kian pulled back Mark was biting his lip, and tears were standing in his eyes. “It's still early days. If I leave now you can find a replacement. Maybe audition someone else or... or I dunno, give my parts to Shane or someone. Better than staying and having everything...” He shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He wasn't crying, he rarely did, but he looked utterly defeated and Kian felt his heart lurch. “I don't want to ruin this for everyone else, just because I'm...”

“Marky...”

“I'm really sorry.” Kian hugged him again, pulled him in tight. Mark sagged against him, his head leant in Kian's shoulder. “I just wanted to sing. I didn't...” He gulped. “I'm not good enough. I never was. I'm sorry.”

“Of course you're good enough. Jesus.” Kian squeezed him. “You think it's not hard for all of us? None of us know what we're bloody doing here. I certainly don't have a clue.”

“But you always know what's going on. You're in meetings and tell us what to do. You take charge. I don't...”

“I do what Louis tells me to do. You think I wanted to sit here with you and say all this stuff I don't believe? I hate doing it, but someone has to. You want Bryan to be in charge of us instead?” That at least got a small smile. “Exactly. We'd all be set on fire by the end of the week. I'm just trying to take care of all of you. I want this to work. I want to do this with you and the other lads. It's not worth it without you.”

“We're expendable, though. Look at Michael and Derrick.”

“Yeah, but they were never right for it. You are.” Kian reached up to ruffle his hair. “You and your big, ridiculous voice. The rest doesn't matter.” Mark nodded, but Kian could tell his words weren't getting through. “I want to help. Let me help.”

“You can't.” His voice was barely a whisper. Kian bit his lip, trying to figure out what to say. “I'm going to have a shower and go to bed.”

“It's only four in the afternoon.”

“Yeah. I don't feel well.” Mark wiped his face on his sleeve. “We don't have anything on tonight. I'll just turn in.”

“Mark...”

“I'll... we'll look at it tomorrow, okay? I don't feel up to...” His hands were trembling a little bit. “Can... can you go, please? I have a headache.”

“Mark...”  
  
“Please.” His voice was barely a breath. Kian could see his jaw creaking from gritting his teeth so hard. “Ki. Please.”

“Okay.” Kian nodded. Mark's eyes were dull, he appeared to have shut up shop entirely. “I'll check in on you later on, okay? See if you want dinner.”  
  
“I won't. Don't worry. I'll just order room service or something.” Mark was up, then, and in the bathroom, the door closed abruptly behind himself. Kian stood there for a moment in the middle of the room, feeling utterly useless.

 

*  
  


Mark didn't come down to dinner. The others asked where he was. All Kian could say was that he didn't feel well. Nicky and Bryan exchanged a look, and he saw Shane's hands twisting nervously under the table.

They finished dinner, went back to Shane's room. Bryan got out his guitar, and they sat around singing for a bit. Kian went and fetched his too, and for a while they all just sat there like old times, having a singalong, belting out old standards as loudly as they could without annoying the other guests, drinking beer out of the minibar. It was nice, the first time in a while Kian could remember singing just for the hell of it, not because he'd been paid to do it. A little reminder that they were doing this for a reason, not just for the money. For a shared passion, a love of the music.

He wished Mark was here.

“I wish Mark was here.” Bryan said, fiddling with the pegs on his guitar while Kian took a break to have a swig from his beer. Nicky nodded.

“Yeah, sounds wrong without him.” The older blonde was leaned back against the head of Shane's bed, a beer dangling from one hand, his knees bent up comfortably. “Should we be checking on him maybe?”

“Best not to.” Shane was sat crosslegged next to him. The two lads had gotten incredibly close over the last year, and Kian was sort of jealous. Not properly, not in any real way, but it had always been he, Shane and Mark. Now it appeared Shane was closer to Nicky and Kian didn't really know what to do with that. He liked Nicky, of course, but he always felt like he was missing out on something. Like Nicky was hearing things first and Kian was becoming an afterthought. “He'll come out of it in his own time. We don't have to be anywhere until tomorrow night, so it should be fine.”

“Should be or will be?” Bryan asked, shrugging when Shane turned a reproachful look on him. “Look, I'm just asking. I love him, but he's not exactly reliable, is he? Like, if he's not fine, what do we do? Make another excuse?”

“He'll be fine.” Kian hesitated, not sure if he should be saying the next part. Still, he sort of needed to defend Mark's behaviour, even if he wasn't sure it could be defended. It sucked. It was that simple, but Mark was his friend. “Louis... said some things today that might have been a bit hard to hear.”

“Like what?” Bryan put down the guitar. Kian realised everyone was looking at him.

“I don't want to go into it.” He said honestly. He really didn't. He felt thoroughly ashamed of himself for having to do it, even though he knew he'd been coerced. He could have done something though, said no, of course he wouldn't say those things to his friend. But then Louis would say them instead and it would be a thousand times worse. “The usual, you know? Can't dance, can't sing, too quiet, no focus...” He shook his head. “He didn't take it well.”

“Shit, I'd be shut up in my room too.” Nicky frowned, emptied the last mouthful from his bottle and tossed it aside. “Is he okay?”

“I don't know. He was upset, you know?”

“Fucking Louis.” Bryan growled. “I want to rip his cock off sometimes and shove it right up his arse. Or up Simon's.” Nicky nodded in agreement, but Shane shook his head.

“But he's right half the time. That's the problem.” Shane uncrossed his legs. He headed for the minibar. “I know better than anybody. None of you have been slapped across the face. But he was right, and I was a hungover, unprofessional idiot. It could have cost me this whole thing but he made it work.”

“It doesn't make it better, though.” Nicky accepted the beer Shane handed him. Kian reached out, feeling the cold bottle press into his hand. “I mean, we can take it, but Mark...” He twisted the top off, took a sip. “What is the deal there? Did something happen to him we should know about? Like, something bad? You know. Drugs or... signs of abuse or...”

“I don't think so.” Shane shook his head. “I know they used to ask questions like that at school, when he was missing days at a time.”

“Did they?” Kian was surprised.

“Yeah, overheard them talking once when I was waiting in the office.” Shane opened his own bottle. “Anxiety was what I heard at the time, but we all know that. And most of the time he's fine. Something just kind of sets him off and he can't cope. And if he really is gay like you said...” He gestured at Nicky. “Maybe that's part of it. Maybe he's having trouble with... you know.”

“What, like an identity thing?” Bryan asked. “Are his parents homophobic or something? Like, is it something... you know. That he'd be afraid to say? Because I don't care if he's gay.”

“No, me neither.” Shane pursed his lips. “Like, it took me a bit to get my head around, but if he is, then that's fine. He's still Mark. If he even is gay. Maybe he isn't. Maybe we're just jumping to conclusions. And it's not like we can go ask him, is it?”

“What, like, 'hey Mark, would you like a penis in your mouth?'” Bryan laughed. Nicky chuckled, leaning back against the bed.

“Well, not yours, anyway.” Kian joked. “I think he'd turn you down, Mac. Not his type.”

“I'm everybody's type.” Bryan smirked confidently. “There's a question. Which one out of the lot of us do you think Mark would shag?”

“Er... none of us?” Shane made a face. “Why are you even thinking about it?”

“Might as well. There's nothing else to do.” Bryan flopped back on the bed, his arms stretching out above his head until he was taking up the maximum amount of room. Kian shuffled sideways to get out of his way. “What's his type, do you think? We could set him up. Find him a nice fella.”

“If he's even gay.” Nicky pointed out.

“Yeah, well...” Bryan scrunched up his nose, thinking. “What's it like, do you think? Shagging a bloke?”

“It's probably alright if you like shagging blokes.” Nicky suggested. “I reckon you'd have to have a good wash out first, though. Like, what if you were in the middle of it and needed to take a shit?”

“Put some newspaper down?” Bryan joked. “You wouldn't want to be eating a curry beforehand.”

“Gross, Bry.” Shane laughed. Kian found himself smirking, unable to believe they were having this conversation. “Anyway, if you're the one giving it it'd be alright, I suppose. Though I don't know that I'd be okay having it in my mouth.”

“Yeah, well, you're not gay, though.” Bryan pointed out. “Like, do you like eating out Gillian?”

“Oi, that's my cousin!” Kian exclaimed, laughing when he saw Shane turn a little pink.

“That wasn't the question. Nicky, do you like going downstairs on your missus?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Nicky shrugged. “She'll do it to me, so I don't mind returning the favour.”

“Right, well same thing with blokes then, isn't it? Probably better, actually, because you know how the plumbing works. You don't have to get down there and figure everything out. It's like a rubiks cube sometimes, I swear to god. She's like 'not there' and you're like 'the last bird liked this' and she's like 'well, you're wrong' and then everybody's cranky and you're rubbing one out in the bathroom on your own.”

“Jesus, Bryan, too much information!” Kian couldn't stop laughing, and when he looked over Nicky had his head in his hands, was giggling uncontrollably. Shane was bright red, was covering his mouth to hide an embarrassed smirk. Bryan chuckled, sitting back up again.

“Ah, you're all fucking prudes, the lot of ye.” He stretched. “Anyway, I could kill a lasagne. Who wants room service?”

 

*

 

It was late by the time Nicky and Shane went back to their own room. Kian was yawning, was starting to nod off on his bed, and Bryan had fallen asleep about an hour before after consuming his own body-weight in lasagne. They were spending too much on room service, Kian knew, especially on the record company's dime. He'd probably get a bollocking about that as well. He didn't want to be the buzzkill, though, be that guy who got to turn around and tell Nicky to stop drinking beers from the minibar, because they each cost about the same as a small country. Be the one to say Bryan had to go downstairs to get a fry up because it was mental having it delivered to their room at three in the morning because he was a bit tipsy and in a mood.

He went to check on Mark before bed. It wasn't something he usually did, but Bryan was snoring loudly and Kian was almost tempted to see if he could crash in with Mark again, just to avoid the noise. He didn't mind the TV so much, not in comparison to the wet, squelching snorts from the other side of the room.

He could hear the television playing inside so he knocked quietly, not wanting to wake Mark if he was asleep, and then waited a moment. Counted to ten. Went to walk away.

The door swung in slightly, a pale face peering out.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Kian put his hands in his pockets, peered around the door. “Just on my way to bed. Thought I'd see if you were feeling okay?”

“I'm fine. Yeah.” But Kian saw it. Saw his lips tremble just the tiniest bit. “Goodnight.”

The door closed.

Kian stepped back. Heard the springs squeak as Mark climbed into bed.

He went back to his own room, not sure what else to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Throw me a line so I can anchor my pain**

**The fabric is about to fray**

 

“Hi, I'm Nicky.”

“I'm Shane.”

“How's it going, I'm Mark.”

“Hey, I'm Bryan.”

“And I'm Kian.”

“And we're Westlife.”

It had been going like this for hours. One of those cutesy video package things for some music show. Kian had gotten sick of talking about himself. He wasn't sure why people would possibly want to know his height, age and eye colour. It felt a bit like he was applying for a passport, except they didn't usually ask whether he preferred boxers or briefs or what sort of girls he liked.

“I'm Kian, I'm nineteen, and I'm from Sligo.”

“I'm Nicky, I'm twenty-one, and I'm from Dublin.”

“I'm Mark, I'm nineteen and I'm from Sligo.” Mark gave the camera a cheerful smile. Then rolled his eyes when it moved on to Shane. Kian stifled a laugh, got a guilty grin in return. He shook his head, glancing over to make sure Anto hadn't seen. He was talking to one of the security guys, though. Because apparently they needed security.

But it was getting like that. They'd had to be escorted through the airport in the Philippines, had to do the interview in the hotel room while fans stood outside and shrieked. Bryan kept waving off the balcony, which only made things worse, even if it was sort of funny while being totally terrifying at the same time.

It was an experience, though, you couldn't deny that. And the album was doing great, so what was a few hundred screaming girls compared to that?

They weren't going home for Christmas. The new single was coming out and they were going to be busy promoting it, spending Christmas in a hotel. They were supposed to be on Top of the Pops on Christmas Eve. Kian didn't know how he felt about that. It was amazing, that they were getting to that point where people were clamouring for them to be on things and to appear places. They were getting invited to celebrity birthday parties, just so people could say that they were there. Bryan had shagged that bird from Aqua, and couldn't shut up about it, even though he was apparently serious about Kerry now. He was thinking about asking her to marry him, which was insane. Kian couldn't say he was all for it – they barely knew each other – but it was exactly the sort of thing Bryan would do.

It seemed like hours later that they finished up. They'd all had to have their makeup redone across the course of the day as they got more tired, and Kian felt thin and fed up. Bryan was yawning, was looking around disinterestedly on the way back to the hotel, and Nicky fell asleep against the window of the car. Mark was staring out as the street rolled by them, his eyes red and sleepy.

“I'm going to call Kerry.” Bryan yawned. “Then I'm going to crash.” It was late. Kian checked his watch, slouching into the hotel at Anto's instruction. They needed a tour manager now, apparently, even though they hadn't gone on tour yet. Kian was sort of glad, it meant there was someone there who got to yell at the others instead, though he did still get the occasional aside from Louis. The old 'tell Bryan this', 'tell Shane that', like it was some sort of camaraderie between the two of them. Hey, we're pals, could you please tell Nicky that he needs to get his teeth fixed? You're friends. He'll listen to you.

“Yeah, I'm going to bed too.” Nicky stretched slightly, rubbing his eyes.

“I'll walk you up.” Shane nodded towards the stairs as they entered the hotel. “I want to sleep for a week.”

“Yeah, well, I'm Mark.” Mark snorted. “And we're Westlife.” His eyes crossed slightly, and he paused, staring theatrically in the distance. “Oh god, I'm broken. I can't stop saying it.”

Kian chuckled, nudging him. Shane laughed out loud, reaching over to slap Mark on the back. Mark smirked, his arms going above his head while he stretched.

“I'm getting a pint.” He gestured towards the hotel bar. “Then probably another one.”  
  
“I'll join you.” Kian nodded. He was exhausted, but he didn't feel sleepy. Felt alert in a way that made him feel a little sick, like he was so tired he was out the other side into awake again. They said goodnight to the lads, waved Bryan off at the lifts while Shane and Nicky started heading for the stairs.

The pints were ordered quickly, and they found a quiet corner in the bar to sit. There were no fans for once. Kian was surprised. They somehow always seemed to know where they were, would show up at random places. Kian was even starting to recognise a few of them, which was supremely weird. The same faces, screaming that they loved him. Or Shane. Or Nicky. Or fucking somebody, with a kind of hysterical devotion that was totally incomprehensible.

“I want to fall asleep for ever.” Mark yawned, stretching his arms along the back of the booth. Kian nodded, staring into his pint. “I can't believe we're not going home for Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas Day, though.”

“Yeah, I don't know. It's not the same.” Mark picked up his pint. “I haven't seen my parents in like...” His face went thoughtful, then he shrugged, lifting the glass to his lips. “Shit, I don't even remember.”

“When we filmed that documentary.” Kian reminded him. They'd done it a few months ago, wandering around their own home town like it was something special. Kian had shown the cameras his room, his piano, didn't know what else to do. Louis had taken them go-karting though, as padding for the DVD, and that had been sort of fun. The Westlife Story. What fucking story? Mark had gone down to the lough for his segment. Kian knew he hadn't really wanted to. It was his spot. Where he always went when they were younger and he needed time alone. There wasn't anywhere else to take them.

“God, yeah.” Mark frowned, looking into his half-empty glass. “It was weird, though. Mam kept asking me what she was supposed to wear in it. I didn't fucking know, did I? I feel bad, roping them into it. I want to go home and visit them, but I can't, and then they've got to jump through hoops to be on a stupid fucking video about our amazing rise to fame.” He rolled his eyes. “Like, who gives a shit? Oh, so Shane likes to ride horses? What's that got to do with anything?” His fist clenched on the table, and for a wild, unexplainable moment Kian wanted to reach out and take his hand. “Like, we're not that interesting, are we?”

“Speak for yourself.” Kian joked. “I'm fascinating.”  
  
“Are you? I hadn't noticed.” Mark laughed, his hand coming off the back of the chair to swat Kian lightly on the back of the head. “Dickhead.”

“Arsehole.” Kian snorted. Picked up his pint. Smiled up at Mark, who had a stupid smirk fixed on his face. “Do you still like doing it?”

“Yeah. I know I complain but...” He shook his head, that smile shrinking down to a content smirk. “I wanted to do it. It's not always fun, but I wanted to sing. I get to sing and I get paid to do it. That's mental. How does that happen?”

“We're lucky.” Kian agreed. “I sort of hate it sometimes, like today, but... it's bigger than that.” It was. The madness of the crowds, the excitement of being on stage or on television, getting to meet people that he'd never thought of as being really real. Edging up on their fourth number one now, the papers said, and the rush of that was... “It's something we're doing together, which is the coolest part. I wouldn't want to do it by myself.”

“I don't know if I could do it by myself.” Mark admitted. “I'm not good at...” He gestured slightly, his face downcast. “I don't know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Dunno. Look so... confident all the time. Put together. Like it all makes sense. None of it makes sense to me.”

“Oh, don't worry. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.”

“Well, that's comforting.” Mark snorted. He was playing with his glass, running his fingers around the rim restlessly, his fingers collecting condensation. “I don't know. I just wish I had somebody to tell me what to do. Like, everyone's always telling me a thousand different things and I don't know...” He shook his head. “Louis says do one thing, Anto says another, the lads want things... there just aren't enough hours in a day, you know? I just want one person who tells me what to do, and I'll do that and I don't have to think about it, then. Worry that I'm doing the right thing or whatever.”

“Well if you want a boss, we could always get you a girlfriend.” Kian joked. Saw Mark's face fall slightly. He lifted his glass, covering his slight frown. Kian felt his heart sink a little. “Or not.” He mumbled, trying to backtrack without asking anything outright.

“Forget it. It's not...” Mark shook his head. “Sorry. Anyway.” He stared into his glass. Kian didn't know what to say, so he drained his glass and excused himself to get another pint. When he got back he managed to make a joke and Mark laughed quietly, started to smile while Kian turned the conversation onto other things, like some mental fan-mail Nicky had been getting that was rather... graphic in nature. Bryan had made a habit of theatrically reading each new letter out loud, every one worse than the last. Kian didn't know what this girl looked like, but he was pretty sure she was broken in the head.

They downed a few more rounds. Mark was relaxing, was laughing and animated while he talked. It was nice. They started talking about things that weren't work. Just stupid things like movies they'd seen and cars and football and things that didn't have anything to do with harmonies or album sales or stage wardrobe. Mark got another round, and Kian got up to go to the bathroom. When he got back, Mark looked up, smiling.

“Welcome back.”  
  
“Cheers.” Kian sank back into his chair, picked up his new beer. Checked his watch. “Shit, it's late.”

“Oh...” Mark glanced at his own. “It's almost midnight. What the fuck happened?”

“Dunno. Beer, apparently.” He blinked, realised he was a little drunk. “We're supposed to be filming a bit for CD:UK tomorrow morning.”

“Shit.” Mark yawned. Kian felt it become contagious, covered his mouth to hide his own yawn. Mark chuckled, picking up his beer. He looked at it. Looked at Kian's. “Finish this one, then bed?”

“Yeah, I suppose we should be responsible.” Kian smiled, putting a hand on Mark's shoulder. Thought he felt a slight flinch. Wasn't sure. “Can I crash in yours tonight? I don't want to wake Bryan.”

“...yeah, okay.” Mark looked at him, gave him a funny half-smile. “I'll have the TV on though.” He explained. Kian got the distinct feeling he was trying to be discouraged without outright being told Mark didn't want him in the room. Didn't know how to feel about that, not when they'd been sat here for three hours having a perfectly nice time.

“It's fine.” Kian assured him. Mark nodded, took another sip. “What's with the TV, anyway? Like, is it a comfort thing or...”

“Just can't sleep without it.” Mark shrugged. “Never been able to. Mam says it used to put me to sleep as a baby, but that sounds kind of pathetic considering I'm, you know, an adult.” He blushed slightly. “It seems too quiet without it. Like it's too...” He shook his head. “It's really hard to explain without me sounding like a mental.”

“Try.” Kian urged. He knew he was probably pushing it, but he'd had a few drinks, and it was unlikely there would ever be another time to ask. It was never just the two of them alone, and he was curious.

“I... I don't know. It's too quiet. Like, so quiet it's loud.” He pursed his lips. “I don't know how to say it. It breaks it up a bit, stops me thinking too much.”

“You don't like thinking?"

“Not... like that.” Mark took another sip of his beer, looked determinedly down at the table when he moved the glass from his lips. “Like the silence is noisy. Like it's roaring in my ears and I...” He ran a hand over his face, his lips starting to tremble a bit. “I'm... I need to go to bed. I'm tired.”  
  
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.”

“No it's fine.” He drained his beer, stood up. Kian reached up to touch his elbow, not knowing what else to do and feeling like he'd pushed over some indefinable line. “I'm tired. I'll see you up there.”

“I'll come.” Kian left his half-empty beer and followed Mark. He'd had enough anyway.

 

*

 

He was woken up by the sound of something in the bathroom. A dropping, rattling, rolling sound that sounded like someone had dropped a box of tiny pebbles on the ground. It merged into his dreams, twisted into the confusion of waking up and only became properly clear when he heard Mark swear.

He opened his eyes, glanced in the direction it had come from. The bathroom light was on, was seeping out from under the closed door. Kian rubbed his eyes and turned over onto his front, going to nod off again. The TV was quiet in the background, the light from it flickering colours across the room.

He heard Mark swear again, the sound of frenzied movement. Opened his eyes once more and looked over. Noticed something skitter out from under the door and onto the carpet. Something small that reflected dull light. He sat up, felt the springs squeak while he climbed out of bed, his curiosity piqued. Picked up whatever it was. Heard Mark swear again.

It took him a moment to figure it out. A mint or something, maybe, a little one. Something sort of powdery and round looking, beige in colour. He squinted at it. Realised belatedly that it was a pill of some sort, saw the tiny indentation running across the middle.

“Mark? You okay?”

“I'm fine. Go back to sleep.” His voice sounded high and thin. Kian pursed his lips, reached out to put his hand on the door handle, his head muddy with sleep and beer.

“Mark, are you...” He pushed the door open. Mark looked up, his eyes wide and bright, like a rabbit in a trap. Kian rubbed his own eyes, looked down at the scattered pills on the floor, the bottle rolled on its side, the small haphazard mound where his friend was trying to scoop up the evidence.

“Go back to sleep.” Mark repeated, his face bright red. Kian bit his lip, stepped clumsily backwards “Seriously, it's nothing.” He moved in front of the spilled tablets, trying to hide them but not able to with how far they'd scattered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Marky...” Kian didn't know what else to do, so he stepped back in and bent down. Reached out to grab the bottle, his hand automatically beginning to brush little beige pills towards it. He glanced at the label. Couldn't have begun to pronounce what was written on it if he'd tried. Mark scooted backwards, his back hitting the cabinets under the sink. Kian glanced at him, took in the way his knees came protectively up to his chest. “It's fine. Did anything break?”

“No.” He wiped his eyes, his hands shaking. Kian finished scooping up what he could reach, put the bottle down while he leaned over to get to the ones that had scattered under the toilet. “Leave it.” He heard Mark murmur tearfully. “Please.”

“Let me help.” Kian looked up, put out a hand to touch Mark's knee. Felt him flinch away. “I want to help.”

“You _can't_.” Mark's face was gone a moment later, covered by his hands. “Just leave me alone.”  
  
“No.” Kian left it. Put the bottle down and crawled over to sit next to him, the handle of the cupboard digging into the back of his neck. He reached out, put an arm around shaking shoulders. Felt Mark shiver, moved closer until their sides were pressed together. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing. I don't want to talk about it.” He sounded breathless, panicked. “Leave me alone. I just want everyone to leave me alone.”

“Not a chance.” Kian reached up, began to stroke short dark hair. It had always made him feel better as a kid, having his mother stroke his hair, take care of him when he was feeling down. Not that he was Mark's mother, exactly, but he was worried, moreso now that he had begun to wake up properly. There were pills scattered all over the tiles, Mark was shaking, and he didn't know _why_.

“I'm so tired.” Mark sobbed. Kian held him. Felt weird about kissing his forehead, but did it anyway, not sure what else he could do. “I just want everyone to leave me alone.”

“Oh, mate...” Kian kept stroking his hair. “Come on, it's not that bad.” Or maybe it was. He didn't fucking know. “What are you taking? Are you sick?”

“It's... it's not...” Mark shook his head. “It just helps me sleep. Stops me from... from freaking out. The doctor...” He shook his head again, almost violently, like he was trying to shake something off. “I can't help it. They make me put on weight and I can't think right, but if I don't...” He sobbed again, pressing into Kian's touch. “It's too much. I can't. And everybody's angry at me but I don't know what to fucking do...”

“Jesus.” Kian breathed, gathering him in tighter. “Why didn't you tell me? We could have sorted this out together.” Mark was shaking badly now, his toes curling on the tiles and hands curling into fists when he lifted them to cover his ears.

“I tried not to take them. I did.” He swallowed, bringing his knees up closer to his chest. “But it's too much and I can't. And I don't feel well, and then I do take them and I'm doing everything wrong and I can't help it.” He wiped his nose, hands shaking. “And that was my last lot and they're all over the floor.”

“You can get some more...”  
  
“Can't. Then people will find out. I don't want them to. I want to do this properly, and not let everyone down.” His jaw was clenched so tight now it had to hurt. “Can't stop shaking.”  
  
“Do they help?” Kian asked. “If you take one will it stop you shaking?”

Mark closed his eyes. Kian could see his every nerve leaping, like his body was trying to leave its skin. Then, shakily, he nodded. Kian let him go, stood up to get him a glass of water from the sink. Pinched a pill off the floor and dusted it off, inspected it to make sure there weren't pubes or anything stuck to it. He bent back down, waited until panicked eyes looked up at him, then pressed the tablet into Mark's hand, helped him sip the water. Mark swallowed, averted his eyes immediately, like he was trying to hide something. Kian sat back down, putting his arm around Mark's shoulder.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” Kian soothed. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel, couldn't stop his heart beating in his throat. Just knew that Mark needed him, needed help.

Mark stopped shaking. Slowly. Kian didn't know how long, but after a while he realised Mark had finally shuddered into stillness, slumped against his shoulder. Kian looked down, saw misty eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. A tongue came out to wet dry lips and Kian went back to stroking his hair, the tiles cold and hard through his boxers.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“Yes please.” Mark said. His voice sounded flat. “I'm tired.”

“Me too.” Kian agreed.

“Sorry.” Mark mumbled. “I'm really, really sorry.”

“Don't be.” He brushed hair out of Mark's eyes, saw him glance up. “I wish...” But there was no way to finish that sentence adequately, not while tears were standing in his friend's foggy eyes, his legs still shifting restlessly like they were trying to shake but didn't have the energy. Kian kissed his forehead again, helped him up. Put him to bed, tucking him in gently and standing back to appraise closed eyes, the shape of Mark's body curled in the foetal position under the blankets.

“Night.” He heard Mark mumble.

“Night.” Kian replied. He went back to his own bed. Stared at the ceiling a long time, while the light of the television flickered over his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**All of the things that I tried to explain**

**How something inside of me started to break**

 

They'd done the performance. There had been a rather savage game of paper-scissors-rock to figure out who was going to squash on the couch with Cat Deeley afterwards, and Nicky and Shane were over there now, talking up the single and playing up to the fans. Kian stood against the wall, sandwiched between Mark and Bryan, waiting for it all to be over so they could go on to the afternoon's radio interviews. He was surprised by how much of a routine this had become, releasing a single. The flurry of press and promotion, of answering the same questions and suggesting that this was, in fact, their best single yet. It hadn't even been ABBA's best single, so Kian wasn't sure how that worked, but he'd smiled politely and sold the lie to people who probably didn't believe him anyway.

Mark had been surprisingly level. He'd already been up, showered, and dressed when Kian had woken, was downstairs having breakfast by the time Kian slumped down to meet the other lads. He had a feeling that was intentional. He hadn't had a single moment alone with Mark all day. Not that he was sure he wanted one. He didn't know how to broach the subject of the previous night with his friend, wasn't sure if he even should, or if that would just make things worse. He didn't know how to think about it, about the fragile, broken way Mark had trembled in a heap on the bathroom floor, surrounded by a scattering of pills.

The rest of the day went by slowly. They piled into the car, went to the RTE studios, piled back in the car, went to do a Smash Hits photo-shoot. It all went quite smoothly, but it was dull and tiring. The Record of the Year award was coming up the next week, though, so at least he had something to look forward to. Not that he thought they were going to win – Ronan had it in the bag for sure, especially after his song had been in that Julia Roberts movie, but it would be good to have a night out for once.

By the time they got back to the hotel it was getting dark. They ended up in the hotel restaurant, five tired boys slumped over their meals. Mark was eating his salad slowly and mechanically, the obvious rings under his eyes muted by the make-up he was still wearing from the shoot. Shane and Nicky were arguing idly over something pointless, and Bryan was texting Kerry, barely looking up from his phone. Kian picked up his fork, began to stab half-heartedly at the chips that had come with his steak.

“Hey, Kian...”

Kian looked up. Knew that look already, the one that said that Bryan was about to ask for a favour.

“No.”

“Oh, come on...” Bryan clasped his hands under his chin, his eyebrows drawing up until he looked like a begging puppy. “It's just a little thing. Tiny. I'll owe you.”

Kian sighed, rested his cheek in his hand and regarded the blonde boy. His hair was flopping down the sides of his face, making him look even more like a beseeching labrador.

“Right...”

“Kerry's coming round tonight. Can you crash in with Mark so I can have lots of sex with her?”

“Jesus, Bryan.” Kian covered a laugh, grinned when he realised Shane and Nicky were giggling too, having been distracted from their argument by Bryan's rather tactless proposition. “You could have just said she was going to sleep over.”

“She is. After I have sex with her.” Bryan pouted, sinking lower in his chair so he could look up, really put some oomph behind the puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

Kian glanced at Mark. Saw the panic behind his nonchalant look.

“He has the telly on.”

“But you slept in there last night.” Bryan whined. “Come on, Kian... Sex. If you were getting shagged lately I'd let you get on with it.”

“Who says I'm not getting shagged lately?”

“Are you?”

“...no.” Kian sighed. Glanced at Mark again. “Yeah, fine. If it's okay with Mark.”

“Of course it's okay with Mark!” Bryan exclaimed, reaching over to clap Mark on the shoulder. “It's okay with Mark, right?”

“Bryan...” Mark rolled his eyes, looked like he was trying to find an excuse. Shook his head. “Yeah, I don't see why not.” Kian watched as Bryan's phone beeped again and the younger boy pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

“Right, well I'm off.” He grinned, shoving it into his back pocket. “Who has condoms?” They all stared at him for a moment until Nicky sighed and reached for his wallet, digging out a square of blue foil and handing it reluctantly over. “You're a legend, Nico. Cheers.” He paused. The puppy dog eyes came back out again. “Erm... got another one? Just in case?”

 

*

 

They ended up in Shane and Nicky's room after dinner, watching television and drinking more minibar beer. They'd gotten a filthy look from Anto the week before when they'd checked out of the hotel in London and he'd seen the room service bill, but Kian hadn't been yelled at about it yet and wasn't sure he wanted to push it. Still, Mark was engaging for once, was sipping his beer and playing some sort of game with Shane that mostly consisted of them waiting until the other one wasn't watching and punching them. Shane appeared to be winning, but Kian wasn't entirely sure of the rules.

They stayed late. Kian considered going back to Mark's room to sleep, but he could see Mark holding back, trying to linger as long as possible and he didn't want to risk falling asleep before Mark came to bed. He didn't know if he wanted to bring this up, talk this out, but he couldn't say nothing. Not after the way they'd left it last night.

“Right, get out.” Nicky said finally. He was practically in bed already, was sitting with the blankets all bunched up around his waist, the pillows propped up behind him. Shane squawked when Mark punched him on the thigh, the older boy having been distracted by Nicky. “I'm going to sleep.”

“Fine.” Mark sighed theatrically, putting his half-empty beer on the side. It was the only drink Kian had seen him have all night, had been nursing it for hours. “God, lightweight.” He stood up, kicked out in defence when Shane made a feint towards his knee, then laughed when a hooking uppercut went for his groin. He stumbled back, avoiding it, then reached down to slap Shane over the back of his head. “I win.”  
  
“You do not.” Shane scowled. “You cheated.”

“It was a draw.” Nicky rolled his eyes, already laying down. “Get out of my room.”

“I won.” Shane protested. “Home advantage.”

“Excuses.” Mark retorted, backing towards the door. Then they were out in the hall and it was suddenly quiet, except for the sound of the door clicking closed behind them. Kian turned to look at Mark, but he was already headed for the lift.

They hadn't managed to get three rooms together this time. Nicky and Shane were down here on the fifth floor, Bryan and Kian on the seventh and Mark on the sixteenth. Mark always went for the highest room if he had an option, which worked out well because Nicky always wanted the lowest so he could avoid the lift. It was such a weird thing for him to be phobic about, and Kian had almost thought it was a joke when he had first been told. But then he had heard the deep, panicked breaths when Nicky had stood in the middle of the lift, his hands over his face while Shane put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

By the time they stepped back into Mark's room neither of them had said a single word since leaving Shane and Nicky's. Mark went straight into the bathroom and locked the door. Kian stripped off his clothes. Climbed into bed.

Mark came back out a long time later, tiptoeing around Kian's bed, obviously sure that he was asleep. Kian gave it a moment, kept his eyes closed until he head springs squeak, the sounds of Mark settling.

“Hey.” He murmured. Heard Mark's breath catch.

“Hey.” The reply came finally. “Goodnight.”

“What are they for?” Kian asked. He didn't know where to start with this, so the basics seemed like a good idea. There was dead silence from the other side of the room. “The pills. What are they for?” There were soft shuffling sounds as Mark rolled over in bed, and when Kian opened his eyes Mark was staring up at the ceiling, the blankets pulled to his chin.

“Anxiety. Depression.” Mark huffed out a breath. “I really don't want to talk about this.”  
  
“I want to understand.” Kian said honestly. “This is affecting you. It's affecting all of us...”

“I'm sorry.” Mark shook his head. “I'm trying my best. I really am. I didn't want...” He swallowed. “This is why I wanted to leave. I don't want to take everyone down with me.”

“I didn't mean that.” Kian turned on his side to look at him. “I just mean we're worried about you. You're off sick all the time and we want you to be okay.” He reached out a hand, was just able to touch Mark's mattress. Shuffled over just close enough to reach the lump of Mark's arm under the blanket. Patted it gently. “We love you, you idiot. Let us help.”

“Everybody wants to help.” Mark said quietly. “Teachers and doctors and my parents and...” He shook his head. “But they've got their own stuff going on and it's all just so... inconvenient.” He was still staring determinedly at the ceiling. “You can't fix it. It isn't going to go away. So what's the _point?_ ”

“So what, you feel sad, or...?” Kian attempted. “Like is there something I can do to make you happier or less, like, anxious, or...?”

“It's not like that.” Mark shook his head again. Kian let go of his arm, sat up in bed and leant his elbows on his knees to regard the younger boy, the darkness blanketing him in shadows. “It's not being sad. It's being...” His voice broke a little bit, his eyes closing like he was trying to hide. “It's like being heavy all the time. Like nothing's worth it because I'm not...” He swallowed. “...worth it.”

“But you are...”

“That's not the point. It doesn't matter if I am or not, it's how I _feel_.” Mark opened his eyes again. “It's like always feeling you need to sit down in the dark somewhere because you're so fucking _tired_ but everybody wants you to do things and it's too much effort to even get up, so you feel like you're letting everyone down and then you try harder but it's like you're covered in cement and everything feels like it's moving faster than you are, because you're stuck...” His voice broke, then he fell silent, his eyes falling closed again. “I want to shout at everyone all the time to just _shut the fuck up and leave me alone_. Because everything's too fucking loud and stupid and I can't...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Jesus.” Kian breathed, his heart breaking for this small, walled-off shape in the bed next to him. He leaned over again and squeezed Mark's arm through the blanket. “I'm really sorry. I didn't know.”

“I didn't _want_ you to know.” Mark said quietly. “Please don't tell the others.”

“Maybe they can help.”

“They can't. You can't.” He swallowed. “I really wanted this. It's all I've ever wanted and half the time I hate it. Everyone wants things from me. I try, but it's not enough. I can't be enough.”

“You're enough.” Mark laughed in response, a dry, broken bark. “You are.”

“Thanks, that fixes everything.” Mark sighed. “I'm tired. I really want to stop having this conversation and just go to sleep.”

“I...” Kian looked at him. Really looked. Saw the dark rings under his eyes that never seemed to go away. “Yeah. I'm sorry.”

“No, I am.” Mark turned away, pulling the blankets up over his head.

“Goodnight.” Kian attempted, thought he heard Mark whisper it back, almost silent in the cage of the bed.

 

*

 

When he woke up Mark was still asleep, the blankets up to his neck, cheek pressed into the pillow. He was facing Kian, his mouth a little open while he breathed steadily, his eyes closed tight. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough despite the late hour of the morning. They didn't have to be anywhere until after lunch, which Kian was profoundly grateful for. He was exhausted.

He hadn't slept well at all. Kept waking up with this sudden, wretched panic that he needed to check on Mark. He didn't know what was making him do it. Mark had always been... he didn't even know the word. Fragile seemed too weak, and he didn't think Mark was weak at all. Damaged seemed to accusatory. Troubled, maybe, but even that... He didn't know how to put a word on it, just knew he had this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that woke him at odd hours, desperate to make sure that Mark was still there.

Of course he was. He always was. He always had been, through this thing that apparently had been going on a lot longer than Kian had realised. A bit anxious, he had always thought, a bit shy and quiet and prone to the occasional breakdown when things got a bit overwhelming, but then they all were. This wasn't...

Mark snuffled in his sleep, pressed his face further into the pillow. Kian watched. Didn't realise he was holding his breath until he let it go. The sunlight was slanting down through the window, and Kian wondered idly if Kerry was still in Bryan's room or if she'd crept out a back entrance yet. He sort of wanted to go back and get a change of clothes. Have a shower. Didn't want to leave Mark.

Which was fucking ridiculous. Mark had been doing this shit for ages, was still here and quite functional, considering. Considering what? Considering he'd been living with this thing for how fucking long? They hadn't even known, not really, so obviously Mark didn't need their help. He had it sorted, despite the occasional lapses. Was able to describe it in a way that was heartbreaking in it's conciseness, like Mark had spent a long time trying to explain it to himself.

“Morning.”

Kian looked up, startled by the croaky voice from the other bed. Mark rubbed his eyes, his hair all messed up, eyes peering sleepily out from the blankets. Kian smiled, reached out a hand to bridge between the beds, his fingers finding Mark's elbow.

“Morning.” He said finally. “You sleep okay?”  
  
“Think so.” Mark yawned widely, then shivered slightly. Kian felt his heart lurch until he realised it was just a standard morning stretch. “You?”

“Not great.”

“Sorry. TV keep you awake?” Mark glanced over it. Kian honestly had barely noticed it. It was turned on low, playing some asinine morning show.

“No, it's fine.” He kept looking at Mark, searching for something. Some evidence that the sleepy, straightforward man in the bed across from him was the same broken thing he'd scooped up off the bathroom floor. “Does it help? With the...?”

Mark sighed. Stared at him for a moment, his gaze indefinable.

“We're going to talk about this, aren't we?”

“I'd like to, yeah.” Kian confirmed. “If it's too much...”

Mark closed his eyes for a moment, his hand worming out of the blankets to pinch his brow. He opened them again, a wary look crossing his face. “Right. Ask.”

“Erm...” Kian bit his lip, stuck. Not sure where to start. “How long?”

“Since I was about twelve or thirteen.” He was tugging the blankets up a little more to cover his chin. “They couldn't figure it out at first. I was just down all the time. Everything felt...” He shrugged. “Sort of grey. It's hard to explain. Like, I stopped thinking because there were too many thoughts at once and I couldn't pick one out without...” He bit his lip. “Yeah, I dunno. I think they thought it was just hormones or something. I got a lot of headaches. Couldn't get out of bed. They thought it was migraines. Then they thought it was stress or something. It took ages until they figured it out.”

“Do you...” Kian didn't know how to ask this properly. “Like, do you feel crap all the time?”

“No. Yes.” Mark gave him a small, laughing smirk. “It's sort of always there. It's not as bad most of the time, but if I go off the medication...”

“Why do you go off it?”

“Because...” Kian watched him push the blankets down a little. “I need to pee. Give me a minute?”

“Yeah, course.” Mark climbed out of bed, wandered around Kian's bed, close enough that they could reach out and touch. He disappeared into the bathroom, and Kian heard the sounds of him going to the bathroom, shuffling around, the tap running in the sink. There was a flush and he came back out, sat down on his own bed, settling against the headboard.

“Right, sorry. What were we talking about?”

“The medication. Why you go off it.”

Mark shrugged. Kian watched him. He didn't speak, just stared at the television, the morning show hosts forcing fake smiles while a celebrity chef made an omelette.

“Mark?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He looked up at the ceiling. “It helps. I got the dosage right eventually. Too much and I'm all fucked up and braindead. Too little and it doesn't help. Or it makes things worse. I get really paranoid sometimes, if I don't take enough.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah.” He scratched his hair, glancing over at Kian. “Like, one time I was sure Anto was trying to kill Nicky. I knew he wasn't, but I was still _sure_. It's hard to explain.”

“Jesus.”

“I knew he wasn't. That's the weird thing. Like thinking a thing and knowing a thing are different. Like, sometimes I just think 'I could probably hang myself off that staircase'. I'm not going to. I don't even want to. I just know that I could.”

“Fucking hell, Mark.”

“Mm...” Full lips pursed while blue eyes took in the bent-up shape of Mark's knees under the blanket. “This is why I don't like talking about it. It freaks everyone out. But the medication helps. I think it's the routine of it, partly. I take half a tablet around eight in the morning, and go about the rest of my day. And most of the time it's fine. But then I get stressed and I have to take more because I'm not coping, and then I get all zoned out, and then I get in trouble, so I try not to take them for a bit, and then I freak because it all gets too...” He gestured slightly, his hand making the shape of a circle. “So yeah.”

“You don't take them?”

“It's not... I can go off it it for a day or two. If I need to. It's mostly when people are on top of me. Like the other day when Louis was really riding me, I didn't take any for three or four days and then it really started to set in so I took a whole one instead of a half one. And I can't drink while I'm on them so sometimes I won't have one if I think we're going out that night.”

“I'm sorry.” Kian's stomach sank, remembering what he'd had to say to Mark a few weeks before, how he'd had to relay all Louis' bullshit. Slap Mark in the fucking face with all of it, when he couldn't even help it. Mark shrugged.

“It's fine. You're always nice about it. I just can't help it.” He looked over, his eyes smiling sadly. “They make me kind of goofy when I have to up the dose, and they make me put on weight. I'm not even hungry half the time.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really, no.” Mark kicked the blankets off, began to get back up. “I'm going to take a shower. Do you need to use the bathroom first?”

“Yeah.” Kian swung his legs out of bed. They sat there for a moment, facing each other, both perched on the sides of their beds, their knees almost touching. Kian caught blue eyes, attempted a smile. Mark smiled back. “Have you taken one today?”  
  
“When I went to pee.”

“How do you feel?”

Mark shrugged. “Fine. Okay.” He took a deep breath. Let it out. “Probably a good thing. It's kicking in now. Honestly, if we'd had that conversation before I took it I don't know how I'd be.” He sounded calm, sort of weirdly level.

“You sound flat.”

“Do I? I don't mean to.” He pressed fingers to his mouth for a moment, like he was checking where his face was. “Is it weird? Like, noticeable?”

“No.” Kian shook his head. “Like if I didn't know...”

“Oh, cool.” Mark stood up. Kian did too. Suddenly they were face to face. Or face to neck, with the height difference. Kian didn't mean to, but before he knew it he was leaning in and hugging Mark, felt arms wrap around his back in return. Heard a slight laugh. “You okay?”  
  
“I'm okay.” Kian nodded into his chest, then let go. “If I can do anything...”

“You can't, but I appreciate it.” Lips touched his forehead for a moment. “Can we not mention it any more? I'm really, really sick of talking about it.”

“I'm sorry...”

“Everybody is.” Mark pushed back, sat back down on the bed. “But seriously, if you need to use the bathroom go now. I want a shower.”

Kian nodded, backed away. Mark was still sitting on the bed when he reached the bathroom door, and he shut it slowly, feeling wrong about letting his friend out of his sight.


	6. Chapter 6

**There's no indication of what we were meant to be**

**Sucking up to strangers, throwing wishes to the sea**

 

“And the winner is...”

Kian barely heard the result before they were all up and jumping into each other, felt Bryan's arm come around his shoulders, felt Mark press to his back. .

“Record of the Year! Record of the fucking Year!” Shane cheered, and Kian hoped there weren't any microphones close enough to catch it. There was a camera on them, though, and when he turned around Mark was hugging Ronan and they were all headed up to the stage, Bryan in front.

The next few minutes were mad. They made it up to the stage, Nicky blurted out something that was probably meant to be a speech, and they went to line up and sing the song. Kian glanced over, made a mental note to make fun of Nicky's weird sparkly cummerbund again, then figured he'd been wearing the same button-up sleeveless shirt for the last year, so he shouldn't be calling the kettle black. Shane started to sing, his face looking like it was about to peel itself with the size of his smile. Bryan was laughing, holding the microphone away from his face to muffle it. Mark was grinning, looked like he was about to burst.

Fucking hell.

Record of the fucking Year.

They finished singing, ended up backstage for photos and congratulations. Everybody was there, going mad. People Kian didn't know kept hugging him. Nicky was already cracking out the champagne, and Kian laughed when a flute was pressed into his hand, overflowing with bubbly. Shane necked his in fairly short order, reached out for a refill. Mark put his down quietly, sliding it behind him onto a small table out of sight, picked up an empty glass and shook his head when Nicky asked if he wanted a refill.

“I'll wait until we hit the cocktails.” He grinned, putting the empty one down too now that the charade was done. Kian wondered how long he'd been doing this without anyone noticing. Without Kian noticing. Mark must have seen him looking because he looked back, gave him a casual, dismissive shrug, and turned around to get swept up by Bryan, who was hugging everyone.

They made it to a club much later. Mark went to the bar, so Kian went with him, watched him order a round including a straight coke in a whisky glass. Kian glanced at him, got a knowing smile in return.

“Record of the fucking year.”

“I know. Jesus fucking Christ.” Mark laughed, leaning on the bar while he wanted for the drinks. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Do you feel good?”

“I feel incredible. I feel like I want to fight someone because there's no way I wouldn't win.” Mark punched his shoulder lightly in emphasis. Kian punched back, chuckling. “I want to have sex with everyone.”

“What, even Bryan?”

“Right now I'd shag Simon.” Mark chuckled, picking up his glass while the bartender put the others together. He sipped his drink, leaned over, and Kian was surprised when he was pulled into a hug a moment later. “I'm so fucking happy!” Mark whooped, pulling back. “Record of the Year!” He shouted. The lads looked over from their table. Bryan stood up, his arms spread wide.

“Record of the Year!” He hollered back. Mark echoed it again. Shane shouted it as well, then Nicky, then Kian found himself doing it too, like the lamest football chant of all time. A couple of people clapped. Kian laughed, leaned back over the bar. Mark leaned with him. Kian looked over, returned the silly, excited smile being shot his way, just glad that Mark was happy.

Mark leaned in. “Stop looking at me like that.” He whispered, then rolled his eyes at the questioning look Kian returned. “Like I'm about to burst into tears and jump over the balcony.”

“I...” 'Wasn't' was right on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn't sure if it was true or not. “...didn't mean to.” He finished instead, looking away. A hand touched his elbow.

“It's okay. I'm having a really good night. Let's just have a really good night.”

“Okay.” Kian took the drinks tray and pushed away, followed Mark's bouncing gait back towards the table.

He ended up in Mark's room again that night. Kerry had spent the whole afterparty in Bryan's lap while the two of them made out, and there were some things he really didn't need to see. He'd honestly seen enough at the table already, had already been in the splashzone for their rather enthusiastic grind on the dancefloor.

They were all buzzing, though. Kian had had a few vodka and Red Bulls, Mark had just had Red Bull. Kian wasn't sure if he was supposed to be doing that, not if he couldn't have alcohol, but he didn't feel right in asking. It was almost dawn by the time they crashed. Mark conked out on the bed, more unconscious than asleep, forgetting even to turn the TV on. Kian did it for him, with the last shred of sobriety he had left, not sure if Mark would wake up in a panic if it was too quiet.

He wasn't sure about a lot of things lately.

 

*

 

“Kian.” Kian glanced over. They'd just come out of another meeting. It hadn't been awful, they'd all gotten a bollocking over various things, but it was only a few days from Christmas and Kian couldn't bring himself to be angry or upset. They'd be going home on the morning of Christmas Day and he was looking forward to it badly. It was all sorted. Shane was going to drive. They'd considered getting a plane but once they waited around at the airport they might as well have just used the time to drive. They'd be getting in around eight in the morning, while Nicky and Bryan went to Dublin to their own families for a few days. And then back to work on the twenty eighth for the last push for the millennium charts. The millennium. Fuck. Where the hell had the time gone?

“Hey Louis.” The older man was standing in the doorway of the conference room. They'd all been sat around the table a moment before, talking about the next year's plans, sorting out the trip to Mexico to film a video for Fool Again. Their fifth single in a year. Kian didn't know how that was even possible. They'd met the fucking queen a few weeks ago, then they'd won Record of the Year. He was half tempted to jump off the balcony to see if he'd wake up before he hit the ground. You always did, in mad dreams like this. “What's up?”

Louis nodded, looked over Kian's shoulder at the curious boys clustered around the lifts. “Kian'll catch up with you lads. Don't worry.” He called. They disappeared a moment later, Shane's hand on Nicky's shoulder while the doors slid shut. He turned his attention back to Kian. “Right, what's with Mark?”

“Louis...” Kian sighed. He didn't want to have this fucking conversation again. “There's nothing with him. He's fine.”

“Right, well, why do his pupils look like they're blowing out of his head?” Louis crossed his arms. “This is bullshit, Kian. If he's on something, he's out. I'm not covering this shit up and letting him take the rest of you down.”

“He's not...” Kian looked at Louis' tapping foot, at the crossed arms. Didn't know what to say. “He's not on drugs. I promise.”

“Because you'd know if he was?”

“I would, yeah.” Kian bit his lip, tried to figure out what to say. “I know what's going on, okay? It's not what you think. He's honestly okay.” He glanced over his shoulder at the spot where Mark had stood mere seconds before. “I'm keeping an eye on him.”

“Right.” Louis stared at him, his mouth twisting into a frown. “You two are rooming together from now on. No arguments.”

“Louis...”

“No arguments.” He repeated. “If something happens, I want to know about it. He's always got his own room and I don't like it.”

“He's always got the telly on...”  
  
“I don't care.” Louis looked him up and down. Kian felt eyes bore into him. “He's out of it half the time, he's not talking, he's missing things...” He paused, staring at Kian. “If you know what's going on, I need you to tell me.”

“He's fine. It's sorted.”

“Good.” Louis uncrossed his arms. “Because if things fuck up I'm holding you personally responsible.”

“Come on, Louis...”

“Personally responsible.” Louis raised an eyebrow. “You're his minder now. If nothing's going on, it doesn't matter, right?” He was still staring. Kian felt like his skin was being peeled back. “Right?”

“Right.” Kian mumbled, dropping his gaze to stare at his shoes. He glanced up. “He is fine, though.”  
  
“Good. Then there's no problem.” Louis was already heading back to his office. Kian watched him go, looked back at his shoes. Then headed for the lift, feeling heavier than ever.

 

*

 

“Hey.” Kian glanced over for half a moment. Mark was in the passenger seat. Shane was supposed to be driving, but he'd had too much after Top of the Pops so had reluctantly handed Kian the keys to his BMW. He was asleep against the window behind Kian.

It was a good car. Drove well, took the corners like butter. Kian was sort of jealous, but couldn't even fathom the idea of buying one for himself. He knew they had the money, knew Shane had wanted to splash out, but spending £16,000 on _anything_ seemed mental, especially a second-hand car. Still, it was kind of cool, feeling the low, powerful hum of the engine underneath him while he watched familiar towns fall behind him, the congestion of Dublin giving way to green hills and the occasional sheep. He had wound the windows down, and the air rushing through the car was clean and cold, making his cheeks sting and his hair whip.

“Hey.” Kian replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” Mark yawned, stretching. He'd been dozing for the first hour of the drive, and Kian had kind of been enjoying the solitude. He twisted in his seat to look into the back. There were presents crammed in the back of the car, stuff from all of them for all their family members, and with his and Shane's enormous families there were quite a few. They hadn't been able to fit them all in the trunk, so there was a pile of them on the seat next to Shane, spilling onto the floor and around his feet. “Shane's asleep.”  
  
“I hadn't noticed.” Kian glanced up in the rear-view mirror, smiling when he saw the slack way Shane's face was squashed against the glass, his cheek dragged up practically to his ear and mouth wide open. There was a slight ringing tone from his left, and Mark reached into the well at his feet to dig through his bag, pulling out his phone a moment later. He pressed a few buttons and then put it back in.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody. Just my alarm. Have to take my...” He glanced back over his shoulder at Shane again. “It's fine. I'll wait until we stop and get some water.”

“Oh, wait...” Kian reached down beside his seat, feeling for the bottle of Gatorade he'd stashed there that morning. It was still unopened, he'd just grabbed it from the hotel shop that morning on a whim. He fished it out and passed it to Mark, one hand still on the wheel. “There you go.”

“Are you...?”  
  
“Yeah, didn't really want it anyway. All yours.”

“Oh, cheers.” Mark reached down into his bag, fumbling. Kian heard the familiar rattle of the bottle, and then Mark was breaking a tablet, putting half in his mouth and returning the rest to the bag. He swallowed quickly, throat working as he tipped the bottle of red liquid. He swallowed, screwed the lid back on. “Here, you can...”

“No thanks. Don't want your gross germs.” Kian laughed, getting a dancing smile in response. “I know you're going to nag at me for coddling, but how are you doing?”  
  
“Yeah, fine.” Mark glanced over his shoulder again. “Just plodding along, I guess. Excited about Christmas, though. Are you?”

“I'm excited about being home.” Kian nodded. They were coming up on a small village now. He checked the dashboard clock – still about an hour away. Low, rustic buildings walled up around them for a moment, then fell away to reveal a long stretch of fields and pastures. “You know I was working it out a few days ago and we've been working for a hundred and three days straight?”

Mark let out a low whistle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Kian nodded. “Like, that's since September. And even then we only had two days off.”

“Jesus.” Mark breathed, his voice wondering. He lifted the bottle to his lips again, drained half of it in four big gulps. “No wonder I'm so fucking tired.” He looked over, must have seen Kian's concerned look, and smiled. “Not like that. Just normal tired. Like I could sleep for ever.”

“I just want to sleep in my own bed.” Kian yawned. Mark leaned over, starting to play with the radio, turning the volume down so as not to wake Shane. He pressed the button in the door and the windows began to go back up, the rush of wind closed off suddenly, making the radio seem louder. He turned it down a little more. “And eat my mam's food. Just stupid things. Go down to Equinox and have a pint and that.”

“Ooh, go chat up all the lasses that know you're famous now?” Mark laughed when Kian gave him an offended look. “Oh, come on! You telling me you won't be saying yes if one of those girls from school realises she's suddenly deeply attracted to you?”

“Would you?”

“No, but I'm not a slag.” Mark smirked. Kian rolled his eyes. He'd steered away from the subject of Mark's sexuality for a bit, figured he'd say something in his own time if it was true. He still wasn't sure, didn't know if the lack of girlfriends was more to do with his mental state than his sexuality. Though Mark really was fine most of the time, so he couldn't see it being a huge issue. “When was the last time you got laid, anyway?”

“Ehm...” Kian stared at the road while he tried to figure it out. It had definitely been awhile. A hundred and three days was a long time to be working, and even when he had the occasional night off it felt like a lot of work to go and pick up. Not that he didn't want to. A shag sounded fucking fantastic. He couldn't help but feel too careful all the time, though, especially now they were getting more well-known. He didn't exactly want some slapper going to the papers. “Yeah, a while.” He glanced at Mark. “Anyway, you're one to talk. When did you last have a shag?”

“Er...” Mark's cheeks went pink and he looked out the window. He didn't respond, and after a minute Kian reached out to change stations on the radio, wanting to diffuse the discomfort that had settled. “Anyway.” Mark said finally. “Louis was less of a prick the other day.”

“Yeah, well...” Kian had avoided telling Mark about what Louis had said. He knew he had to – Mark would probably notice that the rooming arrangements had changed when they got back. He knew Louis had already talked to Anto, gotten the bookings all switched up for the Mexico trip, was working on rearranging the London hotel for the next few weeks. They'd basically been living there for the last month, and Kian was starting to get way too used to the feel of the sheets, the sound of Bryan snoring in the next bed. “Maybe he was feeling Christmassy?”

“Maybe.” Mark smirked. “Not likely, though. What did he want to talk to you about, anyway?”

“When?” Kian feigned ignorance, but knew it was useless. Mark rolled his eyes.

“Afterwards, when he made you stay back. Were you in trouble?”

“No, not really.” Kian pursed his lips, trying to figure out how to best respond. “The usual. Wanted me to go give you lot a bollocking about various things. You know what he's like.”

“It's not fair that he does that to you.”

“It's not, no.” Kian sighed, shifting in his seat. His back was starting to hurt a bit, and he sort of needed to pee. He was tempted to keep an eye out for the next McDonalds, maybe take a minute to duck in, use the bathroom and get a bacon and egg. “I honestly don't mind it that much. I like the managing side of it, you know? Like the organisation? It was actually easier before we had Anto, because now I have two people telling me what to do.”

“And we've got three.” Mark snorted. “You, Louis, and Anto.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that.” Kian glanced over at him. “Are you still coping alright with it?”  
  
“I am, yeah. It's not that people are telling me what to do. I don't mind that. I actually like that it's out of my hands a bit, because I wouldn't bloody know what to do off my own back. I just wish I had only one person doing it. I find it a bit hard to focus sometimes, and then I get confused and it...” He glanced back at Shane, but he was still asleep. “...it plays on my anxiety a bit. Freaks me out. You know. It helps me focus if I know I've only got to deal with one thing at a time.”

“Yeah.” Kian nodded. “I wouldn't mind being able to tell more people what to do, in an odd way. Like, when I can see people fucking about, or I can see things falling out of my hands a bit. Like, Louis tells me to say something, and then Anto says the opposite, and then it's like 'well what was the fucking point if I was going to get undermined anyway?'”

“That works out well. You could be in charge of me.” Mark laughed slightly. “I want someone to tell me what to do, and you want to tell someone what to do.”

“Perfect world.” Kian laughed. “No, it's not like that. It's just...” He shrugged, not sure how to finish that sentence. “I'm really hungry. Look for a McDonalds.”

“Would they even be open? It's Christmas morning.”

“Oh shit, yeah.” He bit his lip, glancing around at the fields around him, trying to get his bearings. There should be another village coming up soon, if he was right. “Well... look for a petrol station or something. I'll get a pie.”

“Best Christmas ever.” Mark chuckled. “Petrol station pie on the side of the motorway.”

“It'll make mam's Christmas lunch seem even better, though.” Kian pointed out. “I can't wait. She's doing turkey and mince pies.”

“Oh god, yes.” Mark stretched against his seat. “Cabbage and potatoes and plum pudding.”

“And spiced beef for St Stephen's Day.”

“Bloody hell, I'm going to spend the rest of my life in the gym.” Mark laughed. “I might eat my own weight in goose.” He licked his lips. “Sure you can't go any faster?”

“In Shane's car? He'll kill me.” Kian laughed. “You want to get pulled over on Christmas Day? Or end upside down in a bloody field, getting eaten by sheep?”

“I'm pretty sure they're vegetarians.”

“Doesn't mean I trust the buggers, they're just waiting for their chance.”  
  
“I thought I was supposed to be the paranoid one.” Mark joked. “It'll be nice though. My family kind of get it, you know? Like they won't be surprised if I don't drink, and I can go get my prescription sorted out without worrying about it or whatever. Like, family doctor? Thank god. I'm down to about my last five.”

“What would you have done if you'd run out?”  
  
“Dunno. Probably go get it sorted anyway. I sort of have to basically. You don't want to deal with me when I've been off them for more than a few days. I don't want to deal with me.” He glanced back over his shoulder again. “Let's not talk about this right now. I don't want Shane...”  
  
Kian nodded, understanding. If he was honest, he was kind of surprised with how okay Mark seemed to be talking about it, especially after he'd been basically shut down the last time he'd broached the topic. Maybe it was just that he'd known for a while and Mark was getting more comfortable with it. Kian didn't think he'd done anything differently. He'd tried to be supportive, but he didn't want to be overbearing so in the end he'd just let Mark get on with it. He'd been getting on with it for years, he didn't exactly need Kian's help doing it, regardless of what Louis said.

“Mark...” Kian glanced back at Shane again. “Look, when I was talking to Louis the other day...” He shifted in his chair, trying to figure out how to phrase this. Felt his back twinge. “He wants us to room together for a bit. When we get back.”  
  
There was dead silence from the other side of the car. Kian glanced over, but Mark was staring straight ahead, out the front window. Kian turned his gaze back to the road, despite how much he wanted to keep watching the younger boy. Check on him.

“Mark?” He said finally. Blindly reached out a hand and found a shoulder, squeezed, felt it shake slightly.

“What?”

“It's cool. Just for a little bit.” He didn't know if that was true. Louis hadn't exactly given them a time frame. “I don't think I snore, if that helps.”

“You don't.” Mark said flatly. Kian's hand was shaken off. He returned it to the steering wheel. “Why?”

“He's just...” Kian tried to find the words without sounding outright accusatory. “He noticed you looked a bit off the other day and he wants me to keep an eye on you. I know you're fine. I told him you were fine.” He added, when he heard Mark's breath catch. “He's worried and he wants to make sure you're okay. I didn't tell him anything.”

“I'm fine. I'd be fine if everyone could just leave it alone.” Mark said quietly, his voice trembling. He exhaled, a shaky breath. “It's not that he's worried, is it? He thinks I'm going to fuck up and he wants you babysitting me.”

“No...” Yes. “It's not like that.”

“I...” Mark's hands rubbed his eyes, his knees drawing up to his chest, heels digging into the edge of the seat. “I don't feel well. Can you pull over please?”

“Mark...”  
  
“I need some air.” He swallowed convulsively, put a hand over his mouth. Kian swerved over to the side. Mark had the door open and was throwing up out the side before they'd even come to a complete stop. His hand fumbled with his seatbelt for a minute, and then he was out, stumbling over to a nearby tree and leaning against it with one arm, puking out something that was startlingly red until Kian remembered the Gatorade.

“Are we there?” He heard Shane mumble from the backseat. Kian glanced around, took in muddled eyes, the red mark on his cheek from the glass. “Where's Mark?”  
  
“Bit carsick.” Kian explained. Mark was on his knees now, heaving into the grass. Kian switched off the radio, feeling his hands shake a little bit. “He'll be fine in a minute. Go back to sleep if you like. We've still got forty-five minutes or so.”

“Yeah okay.” Shane yawned, snuggling back into his own hands. “Can we stop for McDonalds or something in a bit? I'm starving.”

“Sure.” Kian nodded, looking back at the window. Mark was wiping his mouth now, pushing himself back to his feet on legs that shook. He ran a hand through his hair, turned back towards the car, his head sagging as he started to stumble back over. “I'll wake you.


	7. Chapter 7

**There's a future in my life I can't foresee**

**Unless of course I stay on course and keep you next to me**

 

Kian didn't mind rooming with Mark, all things considered. He was even getting used to the TV. Mark was a considerate enough room-mate, didn't leave his crap everywhere, didn't snore overly or come stumbling in at four in the morning. It probably would have happened eventually anyway, now that Kerry was coming over a lot and staying in Bryan's room. They were all based in London more, and the two of them were just about stapled to each other whenever they had enough free time.

He liked Kerry. She was sweet girl, a good laugh and she and Bryan were both just mad enough that they sort of evened each other out. They were getting serious, though, awfully quickly, and Kian had to admit that he was a bit concerned that Bryan was about to do something stupid. Still, they were in love and he couldn't begrudge them that, even if they were trying to eat each other's faces all the time.

Christmas had been fantastic. Sitting around the table with his family, his pants half-undone while he tried to figure out how to fit more turkey in. Loads of presents, loads of food, loads of alcohol. He'd barely seen Mark or Shane until the drive back, and even then they'd barely talked about anything other than how full and happy they were. Mark had been better, hadn't mentioned it again. Had just nodded in general acceptance when they'd been handed their matching room keys in Mexico City and gone upstairs to unpack.

The millennium had come and gone. Mark had gone out a few times with a girl Louis had set him up with, saying something about how he needed to be seen out more. Kian hadn't copped the same crap, wondered if maybe Louis suspected something he wasn't saying out loud. She was a nice enough girl, Lauren, but he didn't think there was anything serious going on. They'd gone to a couple of events together, but Mark barely talked about her, wasn't exactly seeing her socially or anything, and it petered out fairly quickly once their picture appeared in the paper a few times.

They shot the video to Fool Again, got it released. It went number one for a whole week before Craig David knocked it off. They'd been on a plane to America when they'd found out, had a round of champagne in the first class section while American air hostesses looked confused about why these Irish boys were so proud of themselves. They were putting together new songs now for a second album. There was a rumour going around that they'd be doing something with Mariah Carey, who they'd met a few months before. Mark had handled it admirably well – better than Kian had expected anyway – had just looked like he was going to throw up on his shoes, managed to introduce himself quietly, got a hug in return. Kian was sort of jealous. She was stunning, and it wouldn't exactly be an ordeal to have those massive tits pressed up against you. Mark didn't look like he'd noticed that part, had been floating on a cloud for weeks afterwards, kept randomly smiling.

So they settled into a routine. A weird sort of ebb and flow. The single came out, they did a bunch of performances and press, stayed in the public eye as much as possible even though they weren't technically doing anything. Appeared on CD:UK and SMTV and TOTP and other shows with acronyms, did a few more cutesy interviews about their star sign and favourite colour. Went to Brazil and ended up having to do a radio interview on the roof of the tourbus while the fans went hysterical and rocked the sides, stopping them from even getting into the building.

Bryan's birthday was coming up. Kian was still trying to figure out what to get him. SonyBMG rented them a house in Dublin so they wouldn't have to stay in hotels all the time, so Kian only had to room with Mark when they were out of the city. They did Australia and New Zealand. Came home again. He thought about buying himself a flat, and then figured there wasn't much point when he was never in one place long enough.

And Mark was more or less fine.

 

*

 

Mark was having another fucking breakdown.

Kian could see it already. It wasn't hard to pick up, Louis had been off their backs while Bryan had been catching the brunt of his ire for behaving like a tit on television. The press had found out about he and Kerry, which wasn't at all surprising considering they'd been glued together for months. But then Mark had had a lapse. Just a little one. Missed one interview because he hadn't been able to get out of bed, and Louis had gone fucking bananas. Starting shouting about being unprofessional and not being committed to the band. They'd all defended him, stood up and shouted back, and Mark had sat there in the middle, like a child between two fighting parents.

He looked... exhausted. Just tired and down and not at all there. He was off his meds again. Kian was starting to get used to the signs. When he was on too many it was more of a glassy-eyed acceptance, but this was more of a over-awareness. Like he was too present and was trying not to be. He kept biting his lip, then his nails, his hands shifting in his lap, then on his beer, sat on the terrace outside the rented townhouse by himself. Kian had gone out to check on him a few times, but he seemed to want to be left alone.

Shane gave him a meaningful look and Kian shrugged back.

“He's losing it again.”

“Yeah.” Kian sighed, glancing through the glass doors. Mark's knees were up to his chest. He looked trembly. “I'll talk to him.”

“We've got a full day tomorrow.” They did. A bunch of television performances were lined up to be pretaped. If Mark missed out, there'd be a whole run of them as a four-piece, airing for quite possibly weeks after the fact. Louis would go spare. “If he doesn't...”

“I know.” Kian nodded, began to head back over to the terrace for about the hundredth time. Shane crossed his arms over his chest, looking helpless. “Look, go hang out with Nicky.” He suggested. “Give him some space and I'll...” He didn't know how to finish that sentence. “I'll talk to him.” He slid the door open, heard Shane leave the room behind him. Mark looked up. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark hugged his knees tighter, the beer hanging against his legs from one hand. Saw Kian looking at it. “What's up?”

“Why are you off your stuff?” Kian asked, sinking down into the bench next to him. There was plenty of room. Mark was taking up no space at all, seemed to be shrinking while Kian looked at him.

“I'm not.” Mark said quietly. Kian raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you lying?”

“I'm...” His cheeks reddened a little bit. “Sorry.”

“Marky...” Kian sighed, reaching his arms out. “Come here, idiot.”  
  
Mark appraised him warily. “Why?”

“Because I'm about to give you a fucking hug.” Kian laughed, sliding in a little bit. Mark moved, and a moment later he felt the warm, trembling press of his friend in his arms. Mark's arms were still pinned to his sides, and Kian wrapped around him, bringing up a hand to pull Mark's head down onto his shoulder. “Talk to me.” He said finally, still hanging on. Mark was shuddering now, his cheek shifting on Kian's shoulder. “Tell me what's going on.”

“I'm just really tired.” Mark breathed, his voice damp.

“Right, so why did you stop taking your pills?” Kian asked, smoothing out the wayward strands on the back of his head. “Was it Louis?”

“No. Yes. I don't...” Mark inhaled deeply, then held it. Kian held his own breath too, let it go when Mark did, felt it whoosh out against the side of his neck. “I was all zoned out and he was getting annoyed so I thought...”

“Okay.” Kian smiled, looking down at the face mere inches from his. Mark's eyes were closed, long dark eyelashes skating his cheeks. “Well, that was a pretty stupid thing to do.”

“Yeah, it probably was.” Mark admitted. “You don't know what it's like, though.”

“I know. I'm trying.” Kian pulled him in tighter, felt arms stretch out and come around his back, hands moving tentatively. “How long have you not taken one?”

“Couple of days.” Mark murmured. “It's not so bad.”

“No, you seem fantastic.” Kian said gently, smiled when he felt Mark laugh at the soft sarcasm. “Let's take you upstairs and you can have one.”

“No, I...” Mark shook his head. Swallowed. “I don't want to. Don't make me.”

“Why not?”

“Just... I don't want to. I really don't. It makes sense in my head. Just...”

“Okay.” Kian agreed, though he didn't know if it was the right thing to do. Mark needed to be distracted. He was no good to himself just sitting here brooding. “How much you had to drink?”

“Just this.” Mark waved the beer still clutched in his right hand, pulling his arm around so Kian could see it. He'd only taken a few mouthfuls. The bottle was dry, looked warm. Kian couldn't remember how long Mark had been sat out here, but it had to have been almost an hour. “I thought I wanted it, but...”

“Great.” Kian pulled back, felt Mark cling to him for a moment before letting go. He held him at arms length, watched troubled eyes meet his gaze for a moment before shifting on, not focusing properly. “Go put your shoes on. We're going for a run.”

“What?” Mark shook his head. “God, no, that sounds awful.”

“Don't care. We're doing it.” He paused, squeezed Mark's shoulders. Felt the hard tension there. “Shoes, shorts, running. You said the drugs make you get fat, so we're doing something about it while you're off them.” He poked Mark lightly in the stomach. He wasn't fat at all, was just kind of solid. He'd always been a bit pear-shaped anyway. “You said you wanted someone telling you what to do, and I'm telling you we're going for a run.”

“I...” Mark looked like he was going to say no for a moment, but then their eyes caught. Kian thought he saw the ghost of a smile. “What if someone sees me bouncing along like a beached whale?”

“It's getting dark. Put a cap on. Nobody'll notice.” Kian pointed at the doors, making his voice firm. “Now stop wasting time and go get dressed.” He poked Mark again. “Go.”

“Yeah, I...” Mark stood up. Looked down at Kian for a moment, his expression indefinable. Kian looked back. “I'm going.”

“Good. Move it.” Mark disappeared through the door a moment later. Kian stood up and went to get dressed himself, not sure why he suddenly felt better.

 

*

 

“This is... bullshit...” Mark gasped. Kian laughed, jogging backwards to look at him. He'd stopped, was bending down with his hands on his knees. They'd only been running for about five minutes, could still see the end of their street from here. It was getting darker and they'd been able to blend in with the other joggers until now. There were plenty of them, dashing purposefully along the banks of the Liffey, their caps pulled low and feet hitting the pavement hard.

“Come on!” Kian urged, jogging back. “You're not even sweating yet.”  
  
“I fucking hate running. Can't we go do weights or something? I can do those.”

“We can do them when we get back. After our run.” Kian laughed at the groan he got in response. He crouched down. “Keep going. I'm not telling you again.” That at least got a nod, and they started off again, Kian keeping the pace a little slower so Mark could keep up. They weren't going much faster than a walk, to be honest, but at least it was something. “That's it. Round the block twice, and then we can go back and do weights.”

“The block's... fucking... huge...” Mark gasped out. Kian laughed, speeding up a little bit. He liked this, liked the exercise, of tiring yourself out doing something that made your muscles hurt and lungs burn, seeing the results later. He'd tried to keep up on it while they were in hotels, but it was hard to fit the time in. He wouldn't call himself a bodybuilder or anything, but he didn't like feeling slow and fat and still. It was good to move around a bit occasionally.

They made it around the block once, then Kian let Mark walk for the next lap. They were still going fast, and he could hear Mark struggling to keep up. All told the whole thing only took twenty minutes or so, and by the time they made it back he was sweaty and red. He collapsed onto the couch next to Nicky, groaning.

“Oh god, you smell.” Nicky laughed, shoving him lightly, then wiping his hands on his jeans with a look of disgust. “You're sweaty.”

“Kian killed me.” Mark grumbled. Shane laughed.

“Yeah, he'll do that.” They'd gone to the gym together in the past. Shane wasn't too bad, but he was a bit lazy when he was in a mood.

“Weights.” Kian pointed at the garage. There was a small gym set up in there. Kian had a feeling the record company was trying to drop a hint when they'd put it in, thought it hadn't been taken. Half the equipment was covered in dust. “You're warmed up now.”

“But...”

“Mark.”

“Urgh...” Mark grumbled, pushing himself back up again. Shane reached up, catching Kian's arm while Mark stomped towards the garage door.

“He alright?”

“Yeah.” Kian winked. “He'll be fine.”

 

*

 

“Why does everything fucking hurt...?” Mark groaned. He was laid on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. Kian laughed, sitting down on the edge. It was late. The others had all gone to bed ages ago, and Kian had been on his way too when he'd seen the light seeping out from under Mark's door.

“You did really well.” He smiled, reaching out to put a hand on Mark's shoulder. “How you feeling?”

“Fucking shit.” Mark retorted, but he was smiling a little bit. “I want a bath.”

“Go have a bath, then.”

“Can't. Too sore to get up.” He flopped an arm over his eyes, groaning. “Fuck me.”

“No thanks.” Kian sniggered, squeezing his shoulder again and feeling the resulting groan. “It's late. You want me to turn the light off?”  
  
“No. Just sort of want to lay here and die.”

“Well, die quietly.” Kian smirked, letting go. “You taken your drugs yet?”

“Yes mam.” Mark rolled his eyes.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” He huffed out a breath, looked up at Kian. Gave him half a smile. “Sorry about before.”

“Why?” Kian asked. He found himself laying down next to Mark a moment later without meaning to, his legs stretching out. The blankets were all messed up, tangled around Mark, and Kian grabbed a corner, pulled it over himself to block out the cold. He'd thought he'd be in his own bed by now, hadn't bothered to put on more than boxers and t-shirt, and he was starting to get goosebumps.

“It's just inconvenient. It's not fair on you.”

“I'm fine.” Kian tucked the blankets up around his neck. Mark rolled over, and suddenly they were face to face. Kian moved his hand under the blankets, caught Mark's shoulder again and squeezed it. “Come talk to me next time, okay? You don't have to hide it.”

“I just don't feel like anyone cares, you know? When I get like that.” Kian was about to protest, but Mark cut him off. “I know you care. I hear you say it. But it's not the same as believing it. I don't want to put people out, so I don't say anything, and then I feel guilty for lying, and then I get upset because I feel like people are talking about me or thinking things behind my back, and then...” He shrugged. “It's just one of those things. I feel really...” He bit his lip. “Small. Lonely. Like I'm the reason things are wrong.”

“Talk to me anyway.” Kian said firmly. Mark looked up at him, his eyes having dropped away while he was talking. “Even if you think I'm going to laugh in your face or call you names, you come talk to me. That's an order.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Mark nodded slowly, his eyes clearing a little. “I can't promise...”

“Yes you can.” Kian replied. “Promise me. And if you break it, I'll get really angry. So you have to promise and keep it. Non-negotiable.” Mark pulled back for a moment, his mouth twisting into a surprised frown. Then it curved up into a small smile.

“You in charge of me, are you?”

“I guess so.” In charge of Mark? That was a weird idea. He felt oddly comforted by it though, by the idea that something was in his control. This afternoon had gone well, taking charge and getting Mark to go for a run, taking the worry out of his hands and redirecting it until he didn't feel so helpless, until he felt stable enough to take his medication. Tiring him out. Pushing him.

“That sounds okay.” He put out a hand. Kian shook it, snorted a laugh when Mark gave him a silly, open grin. “Right. You're in charge of me.”

“Done.” Kian agreed. “Should we draw up a contract?”

“I don't think that'll be necessary.” Mark laughed. “Can I go to sleep now?” He looked up from under lowered lashes. “Please?”

“You can.” Kian smirked, pulling away and going to climb out. For a moment he thought he felt Mark touch his thigh, but it was gone as quickly as he felt it. He tucked Mark in, ran a teasing hand through his hair, and backed away. “TV on?” Mark nodded, and Kian switched the set on, adjusted the volume to where he knew Mark liked it. “Goodnight.” He said finally.

“Night.” Mark nodded, the blankets tugged up to his neck. “See you in the morning, boss.”

Kian flicked the light off and closed the door.

The last thing he saw was a contented smile.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'll pull away the clouds that cover you up**

**And leave you down**

 

“Mark. Up.” Kian grabbed the end of the blanket, yanked it hard onto the floor and laughing at the twitching, grumbling shape on the mattress, boxers all twisted around and shirt rucked up half to his chest. Mark rolled over onto his front, pressing his face into the blanket. “Not asking you again.”

“Mmnrggrbbh...” Mark muttered, then his legs moved and Kian watched him push himself up. “What time is it?” He yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“Five-thirty.”

“What?” Mark turned a glare on him. “Why the fuck are we awake at five-thirty?”

“Because I said so.” Kian crossed his arms over his chest. “Get your shoes on. We're going for a run, and then you're coming back here to take your drugs.”

“But I went for a run last night...” Mark whined. He was moving stiffly, testament to the weights Kian had made him do. “Everything hurts.”

“And it'll hurt worse if you don't get up and move around.” Kian reached out a hand, felt a cool, reluctant grip take his. “You can chase me round the block.”

“What do I get if I catch you?”

“You won't know unless you do it.” Kian picked up the shoes off the floor that had been dumped there the night before, tossed them at Mark. He caught them clumsily. He glanced at his watch. “You have exactly... three minutes. I'll meet you at the front door. One pushup for every second you're late.”

He left Mark rubbing his eyes and went downstairs. He'd meant to go to sleep after his and Mark's conversation the night before, but had lain awake instead, staring at the ceiling and going over it in his head. He'd thought maybe Mark had meant it as a joke the night before, but as he turned the idea over he realised this was probably quite a good idea. Mark was having trouble taking charge of himself, so Kian could do it for him. Keep him motivated and looking ahead instead of down. He wasn't mad enough to think he could fix Mark's problems – he'd done a little bit of reading on the subject over the last few months and knew it wasn't as easy as all that – but he thought if he could distract him maybe, make it clear that he was in this for the long haul, that he wanted to listen regardless of what Mark's head told him, that he could at least make it easier.

He had wondered, sort of, why he was taking this so personally. Why he even cared enough to make it his problem. Mark was his friend, obviously, but if he was truly, genuinely honest, he was a liability. They were doing something here. Something big and fragile, and if Mark... slipped. Slipped far enough that it became untenable, it could all be torn down in a moment. It was early days. They could ditch him now and regroup. If they left it until later, it might not be salvageable.

But he couldn't do that to Mark. It was too callous. And he liked Mark. They were friends. He knew Mark hadn't meant for him to find out, but there was something about this, about sharing this secret, that made him feel like they'd gotten closer than ever. He wanted Mark here, doing this with them. It wouldn't be the same without him. He'd seen the others considering it, getting frustrated at his absences, but Kian couldn't see it that way. It was something they were doing together, and he wasn't going to cut Mark loose over something he couldn't help.

“Right. I'm here.” Mark put his hand over his mouth to stifle another yawn. Kian checked his watch. Two and a half minutes.

“You're early. Good work.” That got a small smile. Kian had a sudden, unexplainable urge to reach out and hug him. “I get a five second head-start. Ready?” He didn't wait for a response, just dashed down the front stairs and made for the street. He heard Mark's feet pound after him a moment later and sped up, heading for the river.

 

*

 

Mark didn't catch him, but Kian gave him a treat anyway. Made him pancakes. Then had to make more when the others came down and realised there was a free hot breakfast in the offing. Mark was laughing with everyone, his hair still wet from the shower and devouring his pancakes with maple syrup. The telly was on, and they were all sat around watching it, mopping up their syrup with paper towels so it didn't get all over their clothes. The van came around not long after Mark had finished tidying the plates away. Kian has asked him to do it, and he had. Just like that.

He nodded off a little in the car. Not down, just sleepy from the run, and Kian leaned into his shoulder, closing his eyes as well. He could hear Bryan and Shane talking in the seat across from him, gabbing along about a song they were working on. Kian had considered doing some tinkering with a bit of writing himself, but didn't know if he had the confidence for it yet. He was musical enough, but writing was a whole other matter.

The day passed quickly. Performance, interview, car. Performance, interview, car. Interview, performance, interview, car. Some odd game on SMTV where they had to answer questions about each other. Bryan told a made-up story about Cyprus. Car. Performance. Performance. Performance. By the time they made it back home they were all exhausted. Mark fell asleep in the car again, and Kian leaned against his shoulder again to nod off. When he woke up Mark was awake, his arm around Kian's shoulders while he slept. Kian rubbed his eyes, looking up.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark ruffled his hair. “We're back. Get up.”

“Okay, yeah.” Kian yawned and stretched. It was dark outside, the moon full and bright. “Bed?”

“Vodka.” Bryan announced. He was climbing out ahead of them. “Nicky's taking Georgina out tonight. Let's watch TV and get a bit pissed while the grown-ups are out, yeah?”

Mark nodded. “Sounds magic.” He pushed Kian away. Kian stumbled out of the cab, feeling bleary. It took him a moment to find his feet, and by the time he did Mark was holding his elbow, steering him towards the house. Shane and Nicky were at the door, deep in conversation while Nicky fiddled with the house keys.

Mark was upbeat, was doing the drink runs and failing to top up his vodka, was drinking orange juice and pretending it was a screwdriver. They caught up on Friends for a bit, then a movie came on, some crappy action thing that Kian half watched while he argued with Bryan about whether they'd rather shag Jennifer Aniston or Courteney Cox. Mark was quiet on the subject, but laughed along when Bryan opined about the comparative quality of their legs. Shane said he'd have a crack at Lisa Kudrow, and they both told him he was mental.

They went to bed late. Kian fell into his, a little tipsy, heard the springs squeak in the room next door when Mark climbed in too. Heard Bryan laugh in the room across the hall, telling Shane something that required him to say the word 'twat!' very loudly.

Kian smiled, feeling sleep start to claw at him.

 

*

 

Being in charge of Mark was... easy. Kian didn't think it would be at first, suspected it might be a burden of sorts. Not that he thought of Mark as a burden, but it was the consistency of it. Of always having to be there, be present. Give Mark direction and make decisions for him. He'd thought at first that maybe it was a bit pathetic, giving a grown man constant updates on how to live his life, but it wasn't like that at all. He didn't have to live Mark's life for him. Just little things. This shirt or that one? Coke or Sprite? Just taking the little decisions out of his hands. In a way it made Mark more decisive. He was more focused, was passing all the peripheral stuff off to Kian and not worrying about stupid little things. He did that sometimes, got anxious over things that didn't matter. Well, now Kian got to pick out his jacket and decide whether he wanted mustard or relish on his sandwich.

And from his own perspective, though he didn't want to admit it entirely, it was quite nice to have something he was in control of. He always felt a bit helpless, like he was trying to push a rock uphill, and this made it easier. He had a grip on something. It was odd, but sometimes if he was feeling stressed he'd just... ask Mark to do something. Anything. Like last week when Louis had been really cranking the guilt on about a dodgy performance Kian had given at an outdoor showcase, he'd just asked Mark to go clean the sink. That simple. A five second job. But Mark had nodded and done it without question or complaint, had scrubbed the crap out of it until it was shining, and then done the bathtub as well, even though they had a maid come in twice a week to do that stuff for them.

And Kian had felt better. And Mark had felt better. And had taken his medication, and then they'd gone for a run.

They were in Asia on a promotional tour when the news came through. Kian had just had his birthday, and Mark's was coming up. Kian had gotten him a couple of t-shirts, including a purple one with a big yellow smiley face on it. It had just looked so cheerful that he couldn't help himself. Wanted Mark to have it, to be able to wear it. He was still looking for another gift, though. Something a bit more fun and extravagant. Had no idea what. Mark didn't need anything, nothing material anyway.

Kian's phone rang. They were all just chilling in the hotel restaurant. Mark was up in his room having a nap before the night's performance, a bit jetlagged. Kian wasn't worried. He knew Mark would come and talk to him if something was up. It was kind of comforting, knowing that.

He dug it out. Louis was talking already. Babbling about something. It took Kian a moment to understand him. When he did his eyes opened wide, his heart beating suddenly faster. He glanced at Shane, saw the enquiring look while Kian told Louis to slow down. His mouth felt very dry all of a sudden.

Kian hung up. Swallowed. Turned to look at the lads.

“Ehm... you're not going to believe this.” He said slowly. Bryan looked up, tilting his cap back a little bit to meet his eyes. “Fuck.”

“What's going on?” Nicky bit his lip, leaning forward. “Is something wrong?”

“No, uh...” He looked down at his phone again, then at the three lads next to him. “Holy fucking shit. We're doing a duet with Mariah Carey.”

 

*

 

Mark lost it. It was a little bit beautiful to watch. They ran into his room, waking him up by all screaming and talking over each other. He looked like he was going to throw up for a moment, then pass out, then scream. In the end he just fell backwards on the bed, laughing hysterically.

Holy fucking shit.

Bryan punched the air. Nicky sank down onto the armchair in the corner, his mouth still wide open. Mark was hugging everyone, looking like he was about to wet himself.

“Mariah fucking Carey!” Mark squealed. Bryan had popped a bottle of champagne, was pouring them all drinks. Mark took a sip before catching himself and putting it back on the table. Kian watched him, unable to stop himself smiling. He wasn't a huge fan, not as big as Mark was anyway, but this was... this was a thing. An event. An achievement. She wanted to work with them. Louis had said it. Not only 'oh, okay then', but they'd been asked for specifically. Mariah fucking Carey wanted to work with them. An American fucking superstar wanted to work with them.

Holy fucking shit.

He didn't know what they were singing. He didn't care. Had a feeling Mark would probably sing Baa Baa Black Sheep if it was with Mariah Carey. His face was pink, his eyes bright. Kian sort of loved him for it. For being happy. Joyous. He looked invincible. They put on one of her CDs – it wasn't like they were short of them, not with Mark around. They stayed up late, singing along badly to Hero and Without You. Mark kept getting up, running around madly, sitting back down, getting up again. He went to the toilet about nine times. Shane was completely fluthered, kept telling everyone how proud he was of all of them. Nicky kept punching everyone for some reason. Bryan was calling everyone he knew, even though they weren't technically supposed to say anything yet.

Mark hugged him. Kian hugged him back, feeling their hearts beat hard between their chests.

 

*****

 

It all escalated quite quickly after that. Mark was all over the shop. Not in a bad way, just in that he couldn't sit still. They wanted to fly them out to Italy to film a video. They met her again. She was very nice, hung out with them in the studio while they recorded their parts. Mark looked like he was about to explode while he sang in the booth and Mariah fucking Carey watched him. He had a bit of a freak out in the day leading up to it, ended up sitting in the bathroom rocking back and forth, his hands over his ears in the middle of a panic attack.

Kian sat with him, an arm around his shoulders, and talked to him quietly until it slowed down. Just talked. About random shit like the football and a terrible jacket that Nicky loved and Georgina hated with a passion. Eventually Mark rocked to a stop and leaned into Kian, shaking hard. Kian stroked his hair, started talking about an episode of Seinfeld he'd been watching the day before, then got Mark picked up and told him to go make his bed. Then told him to do it again when it came out a bit crooked. Mark nodded, and did it perfectly, his lips pursed in concentration while he tucked the corners in.

And then the day before they left for Capri, Kian couldn't find his passport.

Louis went mental. Anto went mental. But there was nothing they could do. It was well and truly missing. He didn't know what he'd done – he'd had it the week before when they'd been in London. But all of a sudden it wasn't in his travel bag. They put in a call to the passport office, tried to get him a temporary travel pass or something, but it was no good. He couldn't go.

“I'm sorry.” He told Mark at the airport. He went to see them off, felt like if he could just get as close as possible maybe by some miracle they'd let him through the gate. Louis had organised other things, was getting him to start recording for the album. They were letting him do a few more leads this time around, and he was quite looking forward to it. It wasn't the same, though, doing it without the other lads. “I'll try to make it before...”

“It's only two days.” Mark sighed, leaned in and hugged him. “I'll call you tonight. I'm so sorry, Ki.”

“It's okay. Call me if you need anything.” Kian squeezed him tight. They disappeared through the gate with Anto. He felt strangely bereft, like he was missing a hand or something.

He walked back to the car, a security minder following him at a discreet distance.

 

*

 

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Kian held the phone to his ear with his shoulder. He'd ordered a Chinese, figured he might as well treat himself. He was spooning barbecue pork over a bowl of rice, had a couple of beers chilling in the fridge, was going to watch a movie. He didn't know which one yet, but there had to be something on at this time of night. “How's it going?”

“Yeah, nice.” Mark laughed. “This is mental. We just had dinner with Mariah Carey. I couldn't fucking swallow. Like, how are you supposed to eat a pasta with Mariah Carey across the table?”

“That's amazing!” Kian tried to sound enthusiastic despite his jealousy. This was Mark's dream, in an odd sort of way. “How's the video coming?”

“Good. We're just sort of driving and walking around. They got some lad with blonde hair to come in and sit in the front seat to pretend to be you.”

“What?” Kian exclaimed in surprised, nearly dropping the phone. “I've been replaced?”

“No. Well, just for far away shots. But they're cutting in stuff from the recording session to cover it up. It's going to look so weird.” He heard Mark giggle. He sounded high as a kite, but in a good way. Kian smiled, stabbing up a forkful of pork and rice. He headed over and sank down on the couch, nodding in all the right places when Mark started telling stories about his beloved Mariah. It was sweet. For a moment Kian felt his heart swell with fondness. “What are you eating?” Mark asked finally, when it appeared he had run out of things to ramble about.

Kian looked down at his half-eaten bowl of food. “Just a Chinese.” He swallowed. “Thought I'd order in, seeing as you lot are out of my way.”

“Ooh, don't go too mad.” Mark laughed. “Like, get rid of the keg before your parents get back.”

“I'll make sure the strippers get a ride home.” Kian promised. Mark snorted disbelievingly. “I could have strippers if I wanted.”

“I can believe you'd need to pay to see a naked girl.” Mark retorted. Kian grinned, picking up his beer and smiling as the conversation turned back to the many reasons Mariah Carey was amazing.

He was in bed when his phone rang again. He'd been drifting off to sleep, nicely relaxed and full of food, and grumbled as he reached out to pick it up. The screen was flashing Mark's name. He put it to his ear, prepared for round two of the Mariah Carey fanclub address.

“Hey Feehily.” He yawned, didn't bother to cover his mouth. There was silence from the other end.

“You're asleep. Shit, I'm sorry.” He heard Mark say. Kian was about to say something smart, but then he heard it. A slow, shuddering breath. One that was far too familiar. “Sorry, I'll just... I'm sorry. Goodnight...”

“Don't you dare hang up.” Kian said quickly. He sat up in bed, his body flooded with sudden energy. “What's going on?”

“No. It's fine. I'm fine.” He made a sound. A tiny one somewhere between a whimper and a breath. A sound that was low and shaking. “I'll call you in the morning. I didn't mean to...”

“Mark.” Kian cut him off. There was a snuffling sound in the other end. “Where are you?”

“Bathroom. Bryan's asleep. I didn't want to...”

Of course he was rooming with Bryan. Four of them, two rooms to share, and Shane and Nicky were always in each other's pockets. He had a blinding vision, just for a moment, of Mark sitting on the bathroom floor, leaned up against the cupboards, like that time Kian had caught him only months ago, trying to hide the evidence of his medication. Knees to his chest, shaking like he was broken.

“Mark.” He said his name again. It helped sometimes, got him a little bit more focused. “Need you to do something for me, okay?” He pinched his brow, trying to think. “Name three things in that room that are blue.”

“What?”

“Name three blue things.” Kian repeated. “No questions. Do it now.”

“Um... um...” Mark took a deep breath, then let it out. Kian listened, heard the slight, panicked whistle in his throat. “The... there's a blue pattern on the tiles and... and the...” He broke off into a soft sob.

“Mark. Now.”  
  
“Yeah. Sorry.” He paused a moment. “The bathmat.” He said it a little steadier. Kian heard shifting sounds, Mark moving to get a better look, probably. “My toothbrush is blue.”

“Good.” Kian confirmed. “Now tell me what's wrong.”

“Okay.” Mark let out a breath. Sucked a new one in. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. What's the problem?” He asked again. This was better. If he was allowed, Mark got painfully distracted, started rambling about nothing and worked himself into a state.

“I just... I dunno. I went to bed and I started thinking and then I started thinking more and Bryan was in the other bed and I wanted to be by myself to think about it properly, and he wouldn't let me have the television on...”

“Okay.” Fucking Bryan. “Have you got your headphones?”

“Yeah.”

“Put some music on for a bit when you go back to bed, yeah?”

“I... I tried that. It didn't...”

“It's going to work this time.” Kian promised. “Because I'm telling you it will. I need you to get some sleep. I need you to stand up and brush your teeth first though. Can you do that?”

“Now?”

“Now.” Kian confirmed. “Put the phone down and do that.” There was a moment's hesitation, and then the phone was put down. Kian heard the muffled but unmistakable sounds of the tap running, of a scrubbing toothbrush. Mark spit, and then he was back.

“Done.”

“Good.” Kian said. “What CDs have you got?”

“Erm... I have a Stevie Wonder one, and a Prince one, and that new Ronan Keating sampler the record company gave us, and a couple of Mariah Carey ones.”

“Great. Have you listened to the Ronan one yet?” Kian stood up. He knew he had the same thing around here somewhere. They'd gotten it in a promotional pack recently, with a bunch of other BMG stuff. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to buy his own CDs. The thing wasn't even technically out for another two months.

“Not yet.”

“No, me either.” Kian dug it out of the pile of crap on his dresser. “So I'm going to put this on, and you'll put it on as well, and we'll listen to it together.

“You don't have to...”  
  
“I want to.” Kian reached for his discman and popped it in. “Go get your CD player.”  
  
“Okay. Yeah.” There was the sound of an opening door, and a sudden breathless silence as Mark tiptoed across the bedroom floor. After a moment of muted rummaging, he heard Mark whisper. “Got it.”

“Get into bed.”

Blankets moved. Springs squeaked.

“One headphone in. We'll push play together, alright? Ready?”

“Ready.”

“On three.” Kian listened to Mark move against the sheets. “One. Two.” He hovered his finger above the play button for a moment. “Go.” He stabbed down, heard Mark do the same. Life Is A Rollercoaster started up. He heard Mark sigh softly into the phone. “I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He said quietly. There was silence on the other end.

Around track three, he heard Mark let out another sigh, this one deeper and sleepy.

“Goodnight.” Kian whispered.

“Night.” Mark murmured back. “Thanks. Sorry.”

“Not a problem.”

Around track five he heard Mark fall asleep. Didn't know how he knew. Maybe from long nights in the same hotel room, subconsciously worrying, listening for the signs that Mark was okay. It was a strange feeling. He knew Mark so well. Felt his stomach drop a little at the realisation.

He disconnect the phone a few minutes later, when he was really really sure Mark was asleep.

He was asleep himself a moment later, his discman still cradled to his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Do I turn your grey skies blue**

**And make dirty streets look new**

 

Mark was in the recording booth. Kian was watching, leaned back in a chair on the other side of the room while he belted out a new song. There was rumours the record company wanted it for a single. They'd been mentioning it in interviews at Louis' instruction, floating the idea a bit to see what the fans thought, saying it was one of their favourite songs off the album. Kian wasn't much fussed on it – it felt a bit like Seasons in the Sun all over again, but this time with babies instead of death. It was just sort of inappropriate, like they had no business singing about something none of them had any experience with.

“...someone as flawed as... deserves to be as happy as you make me...”

Nicky plonked down next to him, a bottle of water in his hand.

“I hate this song.”

“No you don't. You love it. It might be our next single.” Kian sighed, staring into the booth. “Mark does sound fucking fantastic, though.”  
  
“Yeah, but he always does.” Nicky yawned. “Like, where does it come from? He just looks like this bloke, and then he opens his mouth and it's like he's hiding a black woman in there somewhere.”

“Maybe he is.” Bryan leaned over the back of Kian's chair. “You room with him Egan. Does he, like, take a little Aretha Franklin out of his mouth at night and put her in a jar?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Kian smirked. “I helped him put holes in the lid last week so she wouldn't suffocate.”

“Knew it.” Bryan clapped him on the shoulder. Shane was wandering over now, sinking into the chair next to Nicky. “Figured out if he's gay yet?”  
  
“Jesus. Bry.” Kian turned around, felt a glare pinch his brow. “How would I know? He's not buying bloody gay porn on pay-per-view.”

“Dunno. You two are close. Thought he might have said something. You know.” He glanced down at Kian. “How is he, by the way?”

“In what sense?”  
  
“Just...” They were all bloody looking at him now. “You know. With his weird thing. The anxiety or whatever.”

“He's fine. He's always fine.”

“He hasn't missed anything for a bit.”

“So why are you questioning it?” Kian sighed. “He's fine. He's good. Let's all just be happy and move on with our lives.”

“Right.” Bryan at least had the sense to retreat. Mark came out of the booth, giving them a curious look. Kian realised that all four of them were huddled together staring at him. Which wasn't creepy at all.

“Erm... what's going on?” Mark asked. He studied all of them, but his eyes settled on Kian. “What are we talking about?”

“Bryan thinks you keep Aretha Franklin in a jar at night.”

“That's... just weird enough to be true.” Mark laughed, sank down into the empty chair that Nicky vacated. The blonde boy headed into the booth. Bryan and Shane wandered off again. Mark looked at Kian. “You want to go for a run when we get home?”

“If you like.” Kian nodded, reaching over and touching Mark's hand for a moment. He'd been okay since he'd gotten back from Capri, was happy and smiling all the time. Maybe it was the leftover joy of Mariah Carey, but Kian was glad. “How you doing?”

“Fine.” Mark nodded. “I'm good.” He touched Kian's hand back. Kian smiled, ignoring the sudden glow that spread through him.

 

*

 

“Come on. You're way behind.” Kian taunted, glancing back on his shoulder. Mark was gaining on him, though. Had been getting faster and faster over the weeks and months, was managing three times around the block, then four, was catching up a little more every time. He was surprised, had thought Mark would lose interest after a couple of weeks, like he always did with these sorts of things. Maybe it was that Kian was pushing him, telling him to get up and do it every morning, but he seemed to be taking it seriously. Was pushing himself more every time.

They were back in Dublin after a few weeks in America. It had been a strange time. Bryan had to bail out for a few days with exhaustion, then Mark's grandfather had passed away, then Shane had had to go home for his sister's wedding. Kian had expected Mark to be a lot worse off, but he had been surprisingly fine. Had cried, obviously, and locked himself in his room for a few hours until they could get him sorted for a plane home. Kian had accompanied him to the airport, then called every night to make sure he was okay. Just talked to him. It had been okay. Not as miserable as he'd expected, just sort of generally quiet and friendly, like Mark appreciated the distraction. He hadn't broken down or anything, not like he usually did.

Kian didn't even know why they were bothering with America. They had fans at home, people who actually wanted them to release music, were genuinely interested. They had to work too hard in the States to even get noticed. The new video for Swear It Again was painfully polished and American, with dancing girls and them mucking about at a carwash. He always felt a little like they were being humoured over there. Like nobody really cared and they were just nodding politely until this jumped-up boyband left the room.

He dashed around the bend, heard Mark slide on the pavement as he took the corner a moment later. Kian was already down the alleyway, laughing and taking the next corner fast, heading back towards the house.

“Fucking slow down!” Mark laughed.

“No!” Kian called back, veering up the driveway. A moment later he had his hand on the door. Mark caught up a moment later, his chest heaving. He was wearing another shirt Kian had got for his birthday. A green one with a panting, smiling dog on the front. Partly because he knew Mark liked dogs, partly because it looked so happy. He'd bought a few other bits for him, a silver chain necklace that Mark had started wearing quite a lot. He'd spent more money on himself though. Gone a bit mad with all the designer labels available in America, buying stupid things like rings and a really nice leather jacket that had cost about a thousand U.S. Dollars. It was gorgeous, though, very soft and comfortable.

“Fucking hell.”

“Still haven't caught me.” He teased, clapping a hand down on Mark's shoulder. “One day.” He nudged Mark lightly, then reached out to tug the sweaty material away from his friend's chest. “Need a shower, I think.”

“You too.” A hand ran through his sweaty hair. “You're all sticky.”

“I'm disgusting.” Kian agreed. He had to knock – he hadn't bothered taking his keys, they'd just get in the way. Nicky opened the door a moment later, and Mark dashed past, headed for the back of the house. “Hey, where do you think you're going?”

“Shower.” Mark bit his lip, gesturing to the downstairs bathroom.

“Take the upstairs one.” Kian ordered. “It's nicer. Have a bath too, or you'll be all stiff tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Mark gave him a curt nod, then disappeared up the stairs. Nicky watched him go, then turned back to Kian.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.” Kian shut the door behind him, ignoring Nicky's questioning look. “I don't want him being all sore on the telly tomorrow.” They were doing a performance, a couple of older songs and a bit of a teaser of My Love. It was coming out in a few months. He couldn't believe how fast the year was flying – Shane was about to celebrate his twenty-first and Nicky was edging up on twenty-two. It seemed like only days ago they were driving to Sligo on Christmas morning, like only yesterday that Kian had had a call from Mark at almost midnight, crying and shaking in the bathroom in a hotel somewhere on Capri. Things were easier now. Mark hadn't had a breakdown in months.

“Right...” Nicky looked like he was about to say something, then let it go. Kian walked past him, headed upstairs as well. “Where you going?”  
  
“Shower.”

“Mark's in there.”  
  
“Well, I was going to wait until he got out.” Kian retorted, starting to climb. “I wasn't going to climb into his lap.”

“Are you sure?” Nicky muttered. Kian turned around, looking at the man at the bottom of the stairs. Nicky blushed and looked away.

“What?”

“Nothing. I don't know what I...” Nicky shook his head. “Slip of the tongue, yeah?”

“No, what did you mean?” He dropped down a step. Then another. “What's going on?”

“Nothing just...” Nicky bit his lip, letting it go a moment later with a soft pop. “Look, I didn't mean anything. There's just been a bit of a joke lately, going around. That you and Mark are...” Kian raised an eyebrow, daring him to keep talking. “I don't think it's true. It's just Shane said...”  
  
“Did he? Well, that's convenient, _Shnicky_.” Nicky at least had the decency to blush. “You want me not to talk to him any more?” Kian asked. “I could just leave him the fuck alone. Then you lot can sort out his shit on your own. See how far you get.”

“Ki...” Nicky lifted his hand to his mouth, began to chew on his nails. “It's not like that. I'm sorry. We appreciate it. We do. It's just that you two are awfully close lately...”

“Yeah. I'm his friend. You'd know about that if you got your head out of your arse.” Kian spat back. “So I'm going upstairs to wait for my turn to shower. Then I'm going to keep being his friend. You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Kian...”

Kian shook his head, already storming back up the steps.

He sat down on his bed, listening to Mark shower next door. He was singing. He was always bloody singing. Kian lay back, plopping his head into the pillows. It was something bright and upbeat, echoing off the tiles and muffled by the doors and space between them. Kian found himself smiling, despite his annoyance.

He and Mark, was it? He found himself laughing out loud for a moment. There was a strange fucking idea. Though he hadn't had a shag in a while, so maybe if he got hard up for it, he could just ask Mark to give him a bit of a handy. He'd probably do it, too. He'd do most things Kian asked him to do, though there were some things Kian wouldn't cross a line on. He wouldn't touch the topic of Mark's medication. He couldn't sufficiently state how Mark was feeling, not enough to make decisions like that for him. He could suggest it, check on him if he knew Mark was over- or under-doing it, but he'd never stand there and tell Mark to outright take something.

It was mostly stupid little things. Like this morning, telling him to shower in the upstairs bathroom. He hadn't been asked, and it really didn't matter where Mark showered, but it was sort of comforting. Saying a thing and then having it done without question. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it, that Nicky might find it weird. He supposed it was, from the outside. Like Kian was his dad or something, or a controlling boyfriend. It was just a routine they'd fallen into. Just last week, Mark had been standing at the vending machine, staring at the choices, totally capable of picking something for himself, and Kian had walked past and quietly told him to pick the Snickers. And Mark had. He hadn't needed to be told, but it had just been easy. Nice. Mark had looked at him, smiled, and Kian had dropped a wink in reply.

There was a splash up the hall as Mark sank into the bath. Kian considered going to check on him, then decided against it. He didn't need more questions about their relationship, and Mark wouldn't thank him for it anyway. He'd always been a bit private like that. Kian didn't think he'd ever even seen Mark with his shirt off, not properly. Kian didn't think anything of it, he just wasn't that kind of person.

“Kian.”

He looked up. Nicky was standing in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. Kian nodded back but didn't bother to sit up.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Look...” Nicky stepped into the room a little bit. “I'm sorry about downstairs.”

“That's nice.” He sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I didn't... it was just a stupid joke that was going around. I didn't mean to upset you or...”

“It's not...” Kian looked at him. He sort of wanted to throw something, but they had to work together and he didn't want to waste his time having a falling out. Nicky was his friend anyway, even if he'd said a stupid thing. “Look, shit's a bit hard for Mark at the moment and I don't need him freaking out because he thinks people are talking behind his back.”

“People talk behind our backs all the time.” Nicky laughed slightly. “I got called poofter by some dickhead in the pub last week. Just walked past, called me a 'Westlife poofter' and jogged on.”

“Yeah, but that's not your friends.” Kian looked at him, felt a little gratified by the ashamed fall of Nicky's face. “Come on, you wouldn't be pissed off if you found out we were saying things about you?”

“You're right. I'm sorry.” Nicky hesitated for a moment, then grimaced. “It's not a bad thing, though. Like if you two were a... thing.” He trailed off, shrugging. “Not saying you are. Just... wouldn't be a problem.”

“Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.” Kian replied sarcastically. “By the way, if you and Shane were to get caught fucking each other, I'd be totally cool with that.”

“Oh great, well then I've got something to tell you...” Nicky laughed and rolled his eyes, and after a moment Kian did too. He sat up on the bed. “I am sorry. I really didn't mean it.”

“I know, dickhead.” He stood up, headed over to the door. He could hear the water draining. It hadn't been a very long bath, but then he hadn't specified a time limit. He'd have to be more specific next time. He clapped Nicky on the shoulder on the way past, thought it was a bit weird to give him a hug considering what they'd just been talking about. “Forget it, yeah?”

“Okay. Yeah.” Nicky nodded, turning to watch Kian make his way up the hall. “You not going to wait until he comes out?” Kian paused. Leaned back against the wall next to the bathroom door like he'd been planning on doing that all along and not just barging in. Nicky gave him a funny look and headed for the stairs. “I'll uh... see you downstairs.”

“Cool.” Kian checked his watch. “Van's coming in an hour.”

“I know.” Nicky glanced at his own watch, then disappeared down the stairs without saying anything else. A moment later the bathroom door opened and Mark stood there in his smiley-face t-shirt, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hey.” He was towelling his hair while the other hand held the fabric around his waist closed. “You been standing out here the whole time?”

“No, just got here.” Kian smiled, stepping back to let him past. “You less gross?”

“I am. Wanna check?” He began to jokingly undo his towel, laughing when Kian shoved him lightly, then pulled it properly closed again. “I'm gonna go get dressed. Jeans or shorts?"

Kian glanced out the window. It was a nice enough summer day, but it was supposed to get colder that night and the studio was air-conditioned.

“Jeans. Black ones.” He decided. Mark nodded, heading back towards his room. Kian went into the bathroom and closed the door.

It was damp with steam in here, the mirror still foggy. Mark had cleaned up after himself, but there was still a general feeling that the space had been used. He could sort of smell Mark in the humid air, wasn't sure how he knew that smell. They'd hugged enough times and all, but it was thicker than that, a sort of damp, masculine musk on the air.

He switched on the fan, felt the cold air start to suck away the steam. He switched the shower back on, the bathtub under his feet still warm.

He didn't mean to jerk off, not at first. It was just a thing he ended up doing, as he got warmer and more relaxed, realised it had been a while since he'd gotten off. So he stood there for a bit, leaned against the tiled wall and rubbed one out. Didn't think about anything in particular. He could hear Mark singing again, down the hall, but that was nothing bloody new. It had basically become the background noise of his life.

“Fuck.” He whispered as he got closer, his eyes squeezed tight. He leant his forehead against the tiles, one arm braced. “Oh fuck.” He muttered, feeling the edge near. Then he was coming over his hand, the evidence washed away before he could even get his breath back, listening to Mark warble a Michael Jackson song while he got dressed, the steam from the bathroom still thick with his friend's scent.

 

*

 

“Wait... so she's got a face like a deer?”

Kian laughed, looking over at Mark. Shane was in the booth, belting out the new song.

“Bambi eyes. Like, pretty Disney eyes.”

“Right...” Mark screwed up his face. “But she couldn't have like... Cinderella eyes or something?”

“It wouldn't fit. Too long.”

“Right, but surely there's something other than a deer we could refer to her as. Like, my uncle used to go shoot deer.”

“You saying your uncle's shooting girls in catsuits?”

“No. Well, maybe he was. He was always a bit odd...” Mark trailed off. Pursed his lips. “I'm over-thinking this, aren't I?”

“You might be, yeah.” Kian reached over to pat his knee. They were sitting in the corner behind a table, waiting for Shane to finish up, going over their own lyrics. Nicky and Bryan had gone looking for lunch as they'd already done their bits, and Kian was hoping they'd remember to get his sandwich right. There had been way too much bloody tomato on it last time. “It's a saying. It's fine.”

“I have literally never heard that saying.” Mark leaned back in his chair, huffing out a breath. “Where are Nicky and Bryan? I'm starving.”

“They'll be back soon.” Kian assured him. Shane had just flubbed a line. Was backpedalling to the beginning of his verse. “Do you want a chocolate or something?”

“No, thank you.” Mark shook his head. Kian nodded. Realised belatedly that his hand was still on Mark's knee. He moved it, averting his gaze when Mark looked at him. Felt a surprised shiver run through him when a hand fell to his own knee. There was a table in front of them. No-one could see it, but he still shifted uncomfortably for a minute.

“What you doing?”

“Um... don't know.” Mark said quietly. “Made sense at the time. I'll...” He began to move his hand away, but Kian reached down, holding it to his knee. He squeezed lightly. He didn't know what this was, but he didn't need to be making Mark second-guess himself. He'd been a bit off the last few days. Nothing huge, just sort of jittery.

“It's fine. Everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah. Think so.” The hand squeezed his knee for a second, real and stark through his jeans. “This is a weird thing to be doing, isn't it?”

“It's fine.” Kian said again. “Can I do anything?”

“No.” Mark shifted in, and then their sides were pressed together. He was warm. Kian reached up and put an arm around his shoulder for a moment, squeezing. “I cut back a little bit. Third of a tablet instead of half a one.”

“Why?”

“I felt okay. I didn't want to be zonked out if I didn't have to be.” He looked at Kian. “I feel better lately. A bit more in control or whatever. I just wanted to see...”

“Okay. Keep an eye on it, though.” Kian urged. “I don't want you getting withdrawal or something.”

“I will. I'll let you know.”

“Sandwich attack!” Kian flinched as a wrapped packet came flying at his head. Mark's hand moved from his knee, and he shifted away slightly. Kian caught the sandwich, began to rip it open.

“Er... bit of a tomato explosion?” He said, looking down at it. It was ninety percent red pulp. He wasn't even sure where the cheese was supposed to be.

“Oh shit, sorry. Forgot again.” Nicky winced. “I'll go back...”

“I can do it.” Mark stood up, rolling his eyes. He glanced back at Kian. “Cheese, tomato, lettuce, ham, mayonnaise?”

“Erm... yes please.” Kian said, surprised. Mark nodded, disappeared through the door before any of them could say anything. Bryan looked at Kian, an eyebrow raised.

“Since when is he your sandwich monkey?”

Kian shrugged, not sure how to answer that without it sounding weird. He hadn't even asked Mark to go, had been perfectly happy to pick the tomato off and make the best of it. But Mark had just seen that Kian wasn't happy and gone, his feet practically smoking as he darted out the door.

“Dunno. Being helpful?” He shrugged, looking back down at the table.


	10. Chapter 10

**There's always another wound to discover**

**There's always something more you wish he'd say**

 

Kian was having a really good night.

They'd opened a Harrod's sale earlier in the day, made a bit of a giggly fuss about it being Shane's birthday and given him a cake and a card with the Tasmanian Devil on it. He was having a great day – his parents had given him a horse, and he'd been brainstorming new names for it all day, was currently leaning towards Carlton Clover. He was over at the bar now, laughing at something with Gillian. She was there, pretending to be just one of his many friends. Everyone sort of knew – the Sligo people anyway – but there was no telling who was taking photos and they still wanted to keep it under wraps for now.

Kian got it. It was hard having a relationship in this kind of situation, and she wanted to finish college with a minimum of fuss. He had a feeling Shane sort of wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but he was being respectful of her and Kian appreciated it. He spent half his life talking to her on the phone anyway so it wasn't like they were being all Romeo and Juliet about it.

Lillies Bordello was going nuts. Kian didn't even know who half these people were, but the bar was open and he was well and truly on his way to sloshed. Bryan was dancing with Kerry, Nicky was off somewhere with Georgina, and Mark was...

It was funny, actually. He always got a bit nervous when Mark wasn't in sight. It was silly, probably. If anything Mark had been fine for ages now, hadn't had an issue since his panic attacks while they were sorting out the Mariah Carey single. It was due for release soon, and then they were going to put out My Love. Angel's Wings was still getting floated for Christmas release, but they were pushing for What Makes A Man, which they all liked much better. The album was almost done, a couple of bits to tidy up and a few more songs to add. They were up to thirteen tracks and a couple of b-sides, but he knew Simon wanted a few more, was negotiating with the Swedish guys again.

“Hey.” A familiar voice said from over his shoulder. He glanced around, meeting blue eyes and a broad, crooked smile.

“Hey.” He leaned forward on the bar, felt Mark lean in beside him. “You want a coke or something?”

“Erm... bourbon?”

“Is that right?” Kian raised an eyebrow, reaching out to put his hand on Mark's back for a moment.

“Yeah. Just for the night. Thought it might be nice to...” Mark shrugged, glancing over at Kian. “Is that okay?”  
  
“Of course.” Kian nodded. “That's up to you.”

“Okay, cool.” Mark's face broke into a smile. “I feel good.”

“I'm glad.” Kian waved the bartender over, got them matching bourbons and coke. Mark took his and wandered away. Kian watched him go, smiling.

He came back soon after though. It was odd, they were sort of orbiting each other. Drifting away and then ending up in the same circle again, like some sort of strange tide. He wasn't sure if it was intentional, if he was seeking Mark out on purpose, or if it was Mark gravitating back towards him, he just knew that every few minutes he'd look up and Mark would be there, talking to someone else a few feet away and sipping a drink. Then they'd turn around, laugh in surprise, and fall back into easy conversation again. They ran into each other in the toilets, at the bar, even just wandering past on the way to the dancefloor.

Cake came. Shane made a drunken speech about how he loved everyone. Somehow Mark had ended up stood a few feet away, behind Kian and off to his left. Kian glanced over his shoulder to wave, got a blinding grin in return, then went to nab some cake.

He turned around an hour or so later at the sound of his name. It was getting on, the party still raging but getting more interesting as everyone got a bit sloppy. Shane's dad was introducing himself to everyone, saying how proud he was while Mae tried to steer him away from oncoming embarrassment. Shane was doing shots with Bryan and Kerry. Nicky was off snogging Georgina in a corner somewhere.

“What's up?”

“Not much. Just walking past.” Mark was drunk. His eyes looked sleepy, his face a bit flushed. Kian laughed, realising he hadn't seen this in a long time, not since early days. “I'm going to get another drink. You want one?”

“Should you have one?”

“Should I?” Mark asked. Kian looked at him, at the slightly sweaty hair and the loose smile.

“Do you want to?”

“I do, but if you don't want me to, I won't.”

“Oh.” Kian nodded. “Do you want me to tell you to?”

“...yes?” Mark squinted. “If you could tell me to have one, that'd be fantastic.”

“Why do you need my permission?”

“Because then I can blame you in the morning when I wake up hungover.” Mark chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“So I'm enabling you?”

“Absolutely.” He giggled, his hand coming down to wipe his mouth. “Tell me to have a drink.”

“Not yet.” Kian leaned in, his lips almost pressed to Mark's ear to stop people from hearing. “You get it as a reward, okay? If you do something for me first.”

“Anything.” Mark murmured. A shiver swept the length of Kian's body. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the damp rush of breath against his ear. It definitely wasn't the low, rumbling voice, the hand that had encircled his wrist for a fleeting moment, squeezing and pulling away. “Tell me and I'll do it.”

Kian swallowed, his throat thick all of a sudden.

“Count backwards from thirty.”

“Is that all?” Mark breathed. “You can do better than that.”

“You want me to make you do something hard?” Mark nodded. “How hard?”

“Something...” Mark swallowed, Kian heard it. A low gulp. “Something fun.”

“Something fun.” Kian repeated, thinking. “See that girl over there?” He pointed. There was a cute girl in the corner, leaned against the bar. Mark followed his gaze and nodded. “Get her to buy you a drink, then you can have one.”

“The drinks are free, though.”

“Doesn't matter. Get her to walk up to the bar and order one for you. If she doesn't, you don't get one.” He turned his head, catching dark, drunken eyes. They locked for a moment, then Mark nodded slowly. “But count backwards from thirty first. Because I told you to, and you haven't done it yet. Since when do you not do what I tell you?”

“Sorry.” Mark licked his lips. They were dry from the alcohol. “Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight...”

He finished counting less than a minute later, and Kian felt... relaxed, as he watched Mark walk over to the bar, strike up a conversation with a girl who was instantly giggling at what he was saying. Touching his arm. Giving him flirty looks from under lowered lashes. Kian watched approvingly, the slow, measured counting somehow having sunk into his bones. Every number had drawn the tension out of him, tension he didn't know he was holding. By the time Mark had gotten to one, he'd felt like flopping down in a corner and having a sleep.

After a moment he watched them walk over to the bar. She leant over, gesturing at the bartender, turned to Mark questioningly. He replied, nodding at the bar, and a moment later had a drink in his hand.

He came back over a few minutes later, leaving her smiling dazedly. Kian nodded, looked down at the drink clutched between loose fingers.

“You were in, there.” He nodded at the girl who had turned back to her friends, kept sneaking glances over in their direction. “She would have spread her legs in a minute.”

“Wasn't interested.” Mark said quietly. He knocked back the rest of his drink in a gulp. “You told me to, so I did.” He looked at Kian, his eyes dancing. “What you going to tell me to do next?”

“Stop drinking.” Kian said. He didn't know how to feel about the look he was getting, sort of wanted to put a stop to it if he could. Mark gave him a frustrated glare. Kian raised an eyebrow. “Don't argue with me.”

“I won't.” Mark stepped back. “Can I go to the toilet?”

“If you like.” Kian laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Off you go. I'm not going to hold it for you.”

“People would talk.” Mark agreed. He wandered off a moment later, heading in the direction of the bathroom. Kian stayed where he was for a moment, watching after him.

Then he went to the bar.

 

*

 

He was hungover.

He tried to swear, but nothing came out, and when he stumbled to the bathroom he was throwing up before he'd even finished peeing, bent double and trying to hit the bowl without losing his aim. When he was done he more or less fell into the shower, feeling his feet lose purchase on the tiles until he grabbed the shower-caddy to keep his balance.

“Shit! Sorry!” He caught half a glimpse of Mark's surprised face before the door slammed shut again. “Sorry!” He called through the door. “It wasn't locked!”

“It's fine!” Kian called back, looking down and taking stock. He was naked, but was too hungover to care much. It was just bloody Mark anyway. “I'll only be a minute!”

“Take your time! I'll use the one downstairs!” He heard retreating footsteps. By the time he got out, having thrown up in the shower a few times as well, he felt a bit better. He slumped downstairs, found Mark sitting in front of the TV with Nicky, both of them looking quite worse for wear. He joined them, collapsing into an armchair.

“I'm fucked.” Nicky mumbled. Mark giggled. “Oh, shut the fuck up. How are you so okay?”

“I'm pretty sure I'm still drunk.” Mark admitted. “Good thing Kian told me to stop drinking when he did.”

“Ooh, responsible.” Nicky glanced at Kian. “Didn't take your own advice?”

“I rarely do.” Kian yawned, resting his feet on the coffee table. “Where's Georgina?”

“Still asleep upstairs.” Nicky gestured at the ceiling. Kian had heard them stumble in quite early in the morning, and had then heard... more than he'd like to. Mark gave him a lascivious wink. “Fuck off.”

“Hey, it's not our fault your missus is so religious.” Mark smirked. Nicky gave him a confused look. “Oh God. Oh Jesus. Oh Christ.” He explained. “Nice Catholic girl, is she?”

“Hey, at least she was enjoying it.” Kian sympathized. “You sounded like you were in a bit of pain, though. Kept making sounds like a kicked dog. You alright?”

“Yep. Fine.” Nicky said flatly, staring determinedly at the television. Mark giggled again, settling back into his chair. His eyes were still a bit unfocused. Definitely still drunk. Kian watched him wriggle in his seat. His hair was still wet from the shower. He caught Kian's eyes for a second, and they both smiled companionably.

“I'm going to make breakfast.” Mark yawned, pushing himself up. “Who wants eggs?”

They both shook their heads. Upstairs, there was a swear and a stumble, something that sounded like Shane falling over in the hallway. Kian chuckled, his eyes following Mark as he left the room.

 

*

 

Sweden was a trip. Europe in general always was a bit. It wasn't like Germany, with naked people serving you drinks, or Amsterdam, where people were swinging in cages from the ceiling, but it was just sort of cool and loose, not as staid and conservative as the UK. They were back again, finishing off a few songs for the album. He'd gotten on board with a few songs Bryan was writing, had a play with the lyrics for one called Fragile Heart that he was working on with Shane. It was a nice enough song, sort of lyrical and simple. He hadn't meant to make it be about Mark, but it reminded him a bit of him. The bits about 'a hurting mind in need of emotion' and 'I don't think it could endure another pain'. It felt a bit diminishing anyway, to try to use it to sum up what Mark was going through, especially considering it was a love song and all.

He was helping a bit with another one, too, had come in on Nicky trying to work out some lyrics with Bryan and had grabbed his guitar. They'd sort of gotten the structure of Nothing is Impossible out in a few hours. It was a cute song, kind of funky and bit different. They were still working on it, hoping to have it ready in time for the release, or at least for a b-side or something.

They got there in the afternoon, headed to the studio to get a bit down with the Cheiron guys. They went to bed late, Kian in Mark's room again, and in the morning Mark couldn't find his medication.

Kian woke up to him turning his suitcase upside down, ripping the whole thing apart. There were clothes all over the floor, a t-shirt hanging over the end of Kian's bed where it had been tossed over Mark's shoulder. He was up in a moment, his hand on Mark's shoulder. It was shrugged off, but in that moment Kian felt him shake. Felt the tense, panicked trembling. He put his hand back again, yanking Mark backwards against his chest. Felt a sob. Wrapped his arms around him, holding him still.

“Stop it. Stop.” He felt Mark fight him. Gripped tighter. “What's three times eighteen?”

“Erm... erm...” Mark held his breath for a moment while he tried to work it out, his body stiff and hard in Kian's arms. “Fifty... four?”

He figured it out quickly himself, then nodded. “Good. Two hundred minus eighty-three.”

“Two hundred minus...” Mark swallowed, his body relaxing a little bit. Kian loosened his grip, began to stroke his hair, his other arm still around his chest. “One hundred and... twenty-seven.”

“No. Try again.”

“One hundred and seventeen.” Mark breathed. Kian nodded, letting him go. He moved around in front, kicking the suitcase slightly to the side. They were both knelt on the floor, the carpet prickly under his bare knees. He was only in his boxers, his chest bare. Mark was wearing a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms with Superman on them.

“Tell me what's wrong.”

“Can't find them.” Mark's breath hitched. “I thought I packed them. I did. I...”

“Okay. Stop.” Kian held a hand up. Mark bit his lip. “Did you leave them at home?”

“I might have. I thought I packed them. I always pack them.”

“So maybe this time you forgot.” Kian said steadily. “Let's empty out your suitcase.” It was mostly empty already. “This is a mess. I'll help you tidy it up, and maybe we'll find them.” Mark nodded. Kian reached out, pulling him into a hug. “It's okay. Take a deep breath and hold it.” Mark did. Kian held him tight, felt him tremble as he tried to hold his breath. “Breathe out.” It whooshed out against his shoulder. “You're fine. We'll look, and if they're not here, we'll deal with it.” He pulled back a little bit, looked Mark in the eye. “We'll deal with it. It's fine.” He touched his cheek gently, felt Mark turn into the touch, the scrape of stubble on his knuckles. “I've got you.”

“Yep.” Mark nodded. “Sorry.”

“Don't be.” Kian urged. Then he did something he hadn't expected and kissed Mark's cheek. He didn't mean to, hadn't thought about it in advance. He just leaned in and pecked him gently on his cheekbone. Felt Mark stiffen in surprise for a moment, then the tentative brush of soft lips on his ear a moment later.

It felt... nice.

Kian knew he should probably let go, but then arms came around his shoulders, pulling him back into a hug. They didn't move. Just knelt there in their pyjamas, Kian's thigh between Mark's legs, Mark's thigh between his, interlocking like a zipper. He let his arms wrap around Mark's waist, held him still. Felt his heart speed up, felt the nervous pulse running under Mark's skin. His lips were still pressed to a soft cheek, Mark's mouth still against his ear, hot breath skating it.

“Ki?” Mark whispered tremulously. Kian bit his lip, closing his eyes while he tried to think around the cotton wool suddenly packing his head.

“Mark, I...” He swallowed. Pulled back a little bit, his hands loosening on Mark's waist. “Let's um...” he looked around at the mess on the floor. Felt his cheeks fill with heat. He pressed his hands to them, trying to hide the blush. Stood back up. Mark was still kneeling, looking down into his suitcase. “Let's clean this up yeah?” He swallowed again, his mouth suddenly too wet and too dry at the same time. Mark nodded, reaching out slowly to snag a t-shirt off the floor.

Kian went to the bathroom. Splashed some water on his face while he washed his hands.

Then he knelt back down and helped Mark repack his suitcase.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm right here by your side, shelter you from your fears**

**I won't be far away, I will pull you in out of the rain**

 

They didn't find Mark's medication. Kian asked if he wanted to go to Anto, maybe see if they could get a prescription filled somehow. He didn't want to, though. They were only supposed to be here three days, and Mark said he could hold out that long. Kian wasn't sure if that was true or not, but he wasn't willing to argue, not when his mind kept tripping unstoppably back to that weird... moment. It hadn't even been anything. Just a hug between friends. A moment of comfort.

It hadn't been anything.

He'd kept Mark distracted. They went to the studio, went out for dinner, went back to the studio again. They were putting together a couple of new songs, some uptempo stuff to balance out the album, something a bit dancier they could do on tour.

Mark was in the booth, belting some bollocks about 'girl it's with you I belong'. Kian tilted his head, watching. He seemed okay. A bit heavy, maybe, like his mind wasn't quite on it. He'd been quiet all day, wasn't making eye contact with anyone. Tired and slow. It was like old days again, when he'd been on and off them, trying to please everybody. Not bad, just a bit worrisome. Shane was shooting glances at him, looked a bit concerned, but Kian ignored it. There was no point getting upset and then having Mark panicking about it.

Then the next morning Mark couldn't get out of bed.

Kian lay down next to him. He was already dressed, had been for awhile. The car was supposed to be coming soon. He'd heard Shane and Nicky banging out earlier on the way to breakfast.

Mark pressed his face into the pillow, his eyes closed. The lights were turned off, the curtains drawn. The television on. Kian stroked his hair, pulling him into a hug.

“Just leave me.”

“Definitely not.” Kian whispered, feeling the blankets squash between them like a barrier. “Talk to me.”

“Just feel tired.” Mark breathed, his eyes closed. “Really really tired. Can't do it.” His face pinched, his nose wrinkling up, then he let out a small dry sob. “Don't make me. Just want to sleep.”

“Sleep then.” Kian untangled a knot in his hair. “I'll stay here.”

“No. Anto'll lose it.” Mark yawned, covering his mouth. His eyes opened halfway, troubled and hooded. “Don't feel well. Can't go out.” He blinked slowly, his eyes downcast. Kian leaned down, kissed his forehead. Felt Mark wriggle against him. He pried the blankets back, slid underneath, felt warm skin press to him through Mark's pyjamas, Kian's jeans. Wrapped his arms around Mark's shoulders and pulled him in to lean against his chest, felt slow breaths through his t-shirt.

“I don't want to leave you like this.”

“I'm fine. I didn't have you here last year when it was like this, and I did alright.” Mark glanced up. “Seriously, go. I'm just going to sleep all day anyway.”

“I...” Kian looked down. “If I tell you to get out of bed, will you do it?”

“Probably.” He hesitated for a moment. “Are you going to?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.” Mark shook his head. “I want to cry for a really long time, and then I want to fall asleep. I don't want to do anything else.”

“Then I won't make you.” Kian kissed the top of his head. “You had something dodgy at dinner. Nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah...” Mark's eyes fell closed again. “I'm really sorry.” He exhaled. He swallowed, pressing into Kian's chest. “Stay here until you have to go.”

“Of course."

Kian held him for what felt like a long time. When the knock came at the door he got up, went to make excuses. He went downstairs and climbed into the van, the warmth from Mark's body still cooling against his side.

 

*

 

The day passed painfully slowly. He thought about calling Mark, but didn't want to wake him, so sent a text instead. It wasn't replied to for a hideous three hours, by which time Kian was about ready to get a cab back to the hotel and check on him.

All the reply said was **Sorry**.

The others kept asking questions Kian didn't know how to answer. He understood they were concerned. He'd been in the same boat only a year ago, feeling helpless and just wanting to figure out a way to make Mark feel better, not understanding what was going on. But Mark didn't want them to know. Kian felt like maybe it would be better if they did. Mark had been much better since Kian had found out.

But that was different. He knew what would happen. They'd want to help, would all wall in on him and try to fix him at the same time, and Mark would retreat even further. Mark's well-being was something Kian could handle. Had been handling. It was weird, but he sort of didn't want the others to help. Mark was his problem, something he could make better on his own.

It sounded awfully selfish. He tried not to think about it too much. But it was a good feeling. Helping Mark. Distracting him. Having a little bit of power over him. Controlling him, in a way. Even if it was just to give him silly, tiny tasks or tell him what shoes to wear. Something he could get a grasp on and make sense of when everything else didn't make any sense. It had developed into a sort of game a lot of the time. Even when Mark was fine, Kian would just occasionally throw something out there. Just to test, to see him do it. Knew Mark asked for instruction when he didn't need it, a silly, happy smile on his face that was the stark opposite to the reason they were doing this.

He made it back to the hotel later. Mark was still in bed, tucked up under the blankets, the television on quietly. Toy Story was on, and Mark was watching it silently, his eyes peering out from the blankets, the darkness casting shadows over his face.

“Hey.” Kian sat down on his bed, kicking off his shoes. It was quite late. They'd taken the opportunity to do as much work as possible, get on top of it so Mark could do the rest the next day. The blanket lifted, and Kian slid underneath without question, felt Mark roll over and drape himself over Kian's chest. He carded his fingers through dark hair, cupping the back of his head, holding him close. Mark yawned, closing his eyes. “How are you doing?”

“Headache.” He said quietly. “Feel tired.”

“Anything you want to talk to me about?”  
  
“No. It's not like that. It's all just... too hard.” His eyes were still shut. “I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

“Like what?”

“Don't know. Just something.”

“I won't let it.”

“You won't be able to help it.” Mark whispered. “It'll be my fault. Something awful, and it'll be my fault. I make bad things happen sometimes. I don't mean to...”

“You've never made anything bad happen.”

“Maybe I don't know that I have. Like, maybe my grandfather died because of that time I was rude to him when I was a kid. I think about that sometimes. Like, butterfly effect, right? If I'd done something different, maybe...” He let out a low sob. “I'm sorry.” His hand came up to wipe his eyes. “I didn't mean to. I was just being a stupid kid, and mam said I couldn't go bike riding because we were visiting them, and I... I didn't mean to.”

“Oh god, Mark...” Kian pulled him up, felt tears dampen the crook of his neck. “It wasn't your fault. I promise it wasn't.”

“How do you _know_?”

“I just do.” He kissed Mark's forehead, tightened his grip on greasy hair. “You trust me, right?”

“I...” Mark hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. You're the only thing I trust any more.”

Kian didn't know what to say like that. Whether he should be flattered or a little bit terrified at the amount of responsibility he had apparently accumulated.

“You're fine. If it's your fault, I'll tell you.” He looked down, tugged Mark's hair back a little bit so their eyes could meet. Mark blinked at him, his eyes full of tears. Kian bent down, kissed them away, his lips pressing to one eyelid, then the other. Mark's hands tightened on his waist. “When we get home you can take your medication, and you'll feel better.” He brushed his lips over Mark's cheek, not sure why he was kissing him, didn't know what else to do. It was odd, feeling stubble under his mouth, the weight of arms around his waist. Heavier and more solid than a girl. Mark pushed into the kisses, his head nuzzling into Kian's throat. “What can I do?” He whispered. “Tell me what to do.”

“That's your job.” Mark said quietly. “Tell me what to do.”

“I...” Cant was on the tip of his tongue, but that wouldn't help a damn thing. “Sing something for me.”

“Like what?”

“I don't mind.” Kian replied peppering kisses over his ear, feeling the man in his arms wriggle. “What's your favourite song off the new album?”

“Um...” Mark thought for a minute. “What Makes A Man.”

“Mine too.” Kian agreed. “Do you know all the words?”

“Mostly, yeah.” He nodded. “I know my parts and most of Shane's.”

“Okay.” Kian leaned back a little, stroking his hair. “Sing it for me.”

“I don't feel like singing.”

“I'm telling you to do it.” Kian said quietly, trying to make his voice firm. Mark stiffened against him, then nodded.

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “This isn't goodbye... Even as I watch you leave, this isn't goodbye...”

His voice was low and whispered, not entirely in tune. It sounded like he was talking his way through it, breathing it into Kian's chest. By the time he hit the second verse it was a little more musical, was picking up pace. Kian stroked his back, listening to him work his way through the song. He was relaxing a little, his hand loose and open on Kian's chest.

“...so I can get over you.” He finished finally. He looked up, his eyes full of questions. “Was that okay?”

“Fantastic. Good job.” Kian nodded, saw the tiniest light dance in those dark blue depths. “You want to watch the rest of Toy Story?”

“No. Seen it.” Mark yawned, his face turning into Kian's chest again. “Going to go to sleep.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“You don't have to.” His voice was shy. Kian sort of loved him for it. “Sorry. I know this is weird.”

“Don't be sorry.” Kian said firmly. “Don't ever be sorry.” He sank down in the bed, reaching down to undo his jeans without breaking the connection. His hands fumbled with his belt for a moment, struggling with the buckle. Then a hand came down, skating over the fastening for a moment, tugging it through the loops. Helping. He glanced down at averted eyes, bitten lips. He lifted his hips, shoving the jeans down. Kicked them out the side of the bed. Wrenched his shirt off over his head and tossed it in the same direction. A hand curled up on his bare chest, Mark's face pressing into his neck, breath skating across his collarbone and raising goosebumps.

“Goodnight.” Mark whispered. Kian nodded, stroking his hair again.

“Night, Marky.” His lips found a creased forehead again. “Sleep tight.”

 

*

 

When Kian woke up, he was hard. Which wasn't new, but there was a young man draped across his chest and that was definitely outside of his usual comfort zone. He felt Mark shift slightly in his sleep and glanced over at the bathroom door, wondering if he could get himself out and over to the shower to take care of it without waking his friend up.

Mark shifted again, and after a second his eyes fluttered open. Kian looked down, trying to keep his hips out of the way, will down the pretty inappropriate bulge in his boxer shirts.

“Morning.” Mark said finally, after his eyes searched Kian's for a moment. “Um... this is probably really awkward, isn't it?”  
  
“It's fine.” Kian smiled. “How you feeling?”

“Tired, but...” He yawned. “Better than yesterday.” He blinked, his gaze still probing Kian. “Should I move?”

“Not if you don't want to.” Kian didn't know why he was okay with this, but he was. If he'd woken up with Shane curled to his chest, he'd probably be pushing him off, making an awkward joke about sleepwalking. But this was Mark. He was Kian's... responsibility. Thing. “You feel up to going into work today?” It was bright outside, he could see the shaft of light lancing through the closed curtains. It was dim in here, but it was well and truly daylight. There were morning cartoons on the television. Bugs Bunny dubbed into Swedish. It was really odd.

“I don't know yet.” Mark closed his eyes, settling in again. “When do we have to be in?”

Kian tugged his arm out from under Mark, checked it over his shoulder. “Don't have to be up for another hour.” He confirmed. “Go back to sleep if you like.” He reached out and snagged the remote, switched the TV to mute. Mark nodded, his body sagging as he sighed out a sleepy breath. Kian shifted, trying to work out the numbness that had settled into his shoulder from Mark's weight. Felt the younger boy move to avoid being knocked off, moving further across Kian's chest. A leg hooked his, Mark's hand stumbling for purchase, and then...

Oh.

“Oh.” Mark gasped, snatching his hand back. He was blushing bright red. “Ehm... sorry.”

“It's fine.” Kian forced a laugh, knew if he made a fuss Mark would just freak out. “Sorry. I was sort of hoping it would go away on it's own.”

“Yeah. Erm...” Mark's hips moved back a little bit, and it was then that Kian noticed that his friend was in a similar situation. He hadn't been before, not when he'd woken up. This was... new. Mark's hand fluttered for a minute, looking for somewhere more appropriate to land. It skated his bare chest for a moment, then moved away, and Kian bit back something that might have been a moan when it brushed a nipple, arching into the touch without meaning to. “Oh.” He heard Mark breathe. Then the hand fluttered again. Landed on his stomach. He felt the muscles in his belly twitch under the careful touch, feeling suddenly more uncomfortable.

“Kian?” Mark's face was averted still, his forehead still in Kian's neck. He felt warm, his eyes looking down towards the thing Kian had been trying to hide. “I...” He swallowed. “Tell me to do it, and I will.”

“What?” Kian blinked, startled. The hand moved lower, fingers dipping hesitantly into the elastic. He arched without meaning to, letting out a surprised gasp.

“Tell me to.” His voice trembled. A nose pressed into Kian's throat, Mark's breath coming sharp and hot over his skin. “Tell me to.” He murmured again, his voice tight. The hand slid a little lower. “If you say it, I will. Make me.” Mark moved, his mouth brushing Kian's ear. “Make me.” He said again, his hand almost...

“Oh god... yes.” Kian gasped, not sure what made him say it. Mark's fingers were just there, though, and he felt so close he couldn't handle it. Knew Mark was a man. Knew he was fragile. That he was keeping secrets. Knew Mark was his best friend, and that this was weird enough already. Knew he was probably taking advantage of this odd arrangement they had going on.

Knew all of that.

“Fuck.” He hissed when the grip tightened on him, beginning to caress slowly. He bit his lip, closing his eyes and thinking he should probably try to think of a girl. Couldn't. Could only feel the short hair he threaded his fingers into, the stubble against his cheek. The hardness against his thigh. Mark's heart beating hard against his side while teeth scraped against his ear. “Oh fuck... Mark.” Could have said something that wasn't the name of a man. A man pressed against him, the grip tightening. “Do it. Touch me.” He gasped, pushing up into the hold. A thumb brushed the head, then pressed, applying pressure to the slit while he leaked onto Mark's fingers. He bucked up into it, holding his breath.

“Making me do it.” Mark breathed, though the kisses starting to trail down his neck said the opposite. “You want me to do it. You told me.”

“Jesus.” Kian gasped, beginning to rock into the regular strokes. Mark's other hand trailed hesitantly across his chest, palmed over his nipple. Kian shut his eyes, the confusion too much. “Oh, Jesus, Mark.” He gulped back a breath, felt himself near the edge. “I'm going to come.” He blurted, wanting to warn him or something. You know, in case it got weird. “I...” He gasped, feeling everything tighten. “Fuck...” He cried out softly, his fingers tightening in Mark's hair. “Oh Jesus. Make me come.”

“Yeah...” Mark agreed, his pace speeding up for a moment. Then Kian was coming over his hand, his mouth open on a sweaty forehead that was lined with concentration. He collapsed backwards, feeling the aftershocks wrack his body while Mark wrung the last of him out. He looked down again, watched Mark lift his coated hand out from under the blankets, inspect it, then wipe it on the sheets. Kian groaned, pressing his head back into the pillow.

They lay in silence for what felt like forever, Mark still tucked up under his arm, his erection painfully obvious. Kian didn't know what to do about it. Whether he should do anything. Whether he wanted to.

“Was that okay?” Mark said finally.

“It was...” Kian didn't know how to say it. It had felt... fucking fantastic, if he was honest. But this was Mark. Who was a man. Who might be gay. Kian wasn't gay. “It was fine. I told you to do it, and you did, right?” He attempted, felt Mark shiver against him. “Did you want to do it?”

“It doesn't matter.” He shook his head after a moment's hesitation. “I didn't do it for me.”

Kian wondered which of them he was telling.

 

*

 

Mark got up. Showered. Spent suspiciously long in there. Kian heard the movement of the water, the soft gasp at the end, and sat on the bed staring at his feet, trying to work through this whole thing in his head.

He didn't have much time, though, because Mark came out of the bathroom already dressed, and Anto was knocking on the door a moment later, telling them to hurry up.

Mark was in the booth now, singing a bunch of harmonies for Dreams Come True, his eyes closed. It was a bit more uptempo that they were used to, and it was a bit harder to focus on the vocals without rushing and stumbling over themselves. It was a fun song though, a bit out of their usual scope. Nicky and Shane were tapping their feet. Bryan was singing along quietly. Kian was watching Mark.

The day finished up. It was more or less Mark's day, so they barely got a chance to talk. He wouldn't have known what to say anyway. Mark was still a bit down looking, but he was functional enough so Kian pushed aside the worry and just focused on getting the job done.

They were back on a plane by ten o'clock that night. Home by one. They all went straight up to bed. Mark found his pills on the floor, rolled under the edge of the dresser. He must have packed them and accidentally knocked them out. He took half of one and climbed into bed. Kian ruffled his hair, wished him good night, and went to his own room to lay in the dark.

He was going to brood over it, but he'd done enough of that on the plane already and still hadn't come up with any answers.

He was dragged to sleep soon after, his dreams thick and confused.


	12. Chapter 12

**I'd change the world and make it new, but there's one thing that I would not do**

**I wouldn't change a thing about you**

 

“Lads, if I could fly this plane myself we'd be going home...”

“Cut!” Kian glanced over at the director. He was sick of this shit. They'd been filming all day, and apparently it was impossible for them to get one fucking take right. It was Bryan this time, giggling away.

“Bryan! Knock it off!” He exclaimed, feeling his face turn red. He was over this. It had been a long fucking day and they still had to go spin around on a cliff somewhere. Mark was laughing too, was shooting Kian apologetic looks. “Seriously, I want to go home at some point today!”

“Sorry!” Bryan was still laughing, lifting his hands in defence. “Sorry, it was just...” He covered his mouth, his body shaking. “If I could fly this plane myself we'd be going home!” He was gone again. Shane was starting to lose it as well, was bent over the phone he was pretending to make airline bookings on, trying to hide the tears of mirth in his eyes, his lips pursed over a smile. Even Nicky was smirking, was rolling his eyes and trying to look mature.

It had been like this for two days now. They'd done the street and train station shoots, had ended up spending the whole day getting distracted by the massive throng of fans that had shown up, as well as the people from MTV and that who wanted to report on it. Kian had been stuck in interviews and signing things pretty much the whole time the others were filming, and when they finally got all five of them in once place it was to walk up and down the same bloody street.

He hadn't minded at first. They all mucked around a bit. They usually did. Nicky had been going around headbutting everyone. Shane kept throwing punches. They were always stupidly physical, especially when they got tired, but they'd slowed things down too much. They were supposed to be back in Sligo tonight for a few days off, but the shots on the cliffs hadn't come out right and they still had to go back and redo them after finishing off the airport scenes.

And he was running out of bloody patience.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Bryan held his breath, his lips twitching. “I can do it. I can...” Laughter burst out of him again and he bent double, clutching his stomach.

“Right, take five!” The director called out. Kian stood up, rolling his eyes, and stormed away, just needing to get out of there for a moment. He ducked into the toilets, slammed the door, and threw a punch into the wall of the stall.

He was pissed the fuck off.

He threw his foot into the wall, swore out loud, then did it again, feeling the stall rattle around him with the force. Heard a door creak somewhere outside and paused, holding his breath and hoping he hadn't been heard. Just what he needed. Some journalist hearing him throw a tantrum in the toilets.

“Kian?”

“Not now, Mark.” He barked back. Mark had been upbeat for the last few weeks, was totally chilled as far as Kian could tell. They hadn't spoken about that night in Sweden, not even mentioned it, but Mark was back in his routine and had been for the last few weeks. Smiling and laughing with everyone, barely seeming to need Kian's help at all.

Kian didn't know why, but he sort of hated him for it.

“Sorry.” Mark was biting his lip. Kian didn't know how he knew, but he did. Felt his heart drop at the quiet apology in his voice. He hated when Mark said sorry. Absolutely fucking hated it. Like every time he said sorry he was apologising not just for what he'd done, but for what he was.

“Don't...” He sighed, leaning against the door. “I'm sorry. I'm not angry at you.” He reached for the lock, twisted it open. Mark was stood there, his hand yanking anxiously at the collar of his black turtleneck. Kian put a hand on his shoulder and then, after a moment, tugged him inside. He locked the door again, sitting down on the toilet.

Mark crouched down in front of him, his eyes looking up. Sweet, unmuddled eyes that had seemed perfectly direct lately. His skin was clear, his smile honest. Kian had caught a glance at the tapes from the day before, had seen dimples appearing in Mark's cheeks for the first time in ages.

“I'm just getting frustrated. I didn't mean to take it out on you.” His hands were still clenched into fists on his knees. Mark reached out, closing his hands over them.

“Tell me to do something.” Mark said softly. His hand came up, fingers trailing hesitantly down Kian's temple for a moment. Kian unclenched his fist now that the hand was free. “It'll make you feel better.”

“It's not the same if you don't need me to.” Kian shook his head. “You're fine at the moment. I'm glad for you.” He bit his lip. “I'll be okay in a minute, I'm just sick of everyone's crap. I wanted to go home tonight, you know?”

“I know. Me too.” Mark gave him a lopsided smile. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a lolly wrapper. They'd all been eating them, just to keep a bit of energy up. He held it up, then let it go. It floated onto the floor. “Oops.”

“Are you going to pick that up?”

“I wasn't planning on it. No.” Mark gave him a cheeky smirk. “Did you want me to?”

Kian looked down at the piece of plastic on the floor. Shook his head and leaned back against the cistern, sure it was probably filthy. His fist was let go of, and the hand slid underneath it, squeezing his knee. Mark's other hand reached into his pocket, pulling out another wrapper. It went the same way as the first.

“Shit, I'm making a mess.” Mark frowned. Kian felt a smile itch at his mouth, despite his frustration. “Just going to leave that there, you know. Not even going to pick it up.”

“Mark...” Kian rolled his eyes. Mark grinned, leaning in to rest his chin on Kian's knee, his eyes looking up like the strangest puppy-dog ever. Kian ran a hand through his hair, appreciating the thought. “Pick that up, idiot. You're making a mess.”

“No problem.” Mark scooped them up in a moment, shoved the offending wrappers back into his coat. It was a nice coat, thick and black, coming down almost to his knees. Mark looked even paler than usual against it, his lips redder, hair darker somehow. “I didn't even notice I was littering. Good thing you caught me out. I'm glad I've got you looking out for me. Telling me what to do.”

Kian nodded, tugging Mark's head off his knee. It was awfully close to certain spots, and not for the first time he remembered the feel of careful fingers on him, that tightening grip. Mark reached in to give him a hug and Kian hugged back, felt a kiss press to his cheek, just for a moment.

“Let's go pretend to not catch a plane.” Mark announced, standing up. Kian followed him back out the door.

 

*

 

They finished eventually. They were supposed to go to Sligo for four days, but it ended up being more like a long weekend. Shane went up first, needed to go as soon as the shoot was finished to meet the contractors on his new house. He was building it at Carraroe, was secretly working with Gillian on the designs. Nicky and Bryan went back to stay with their families for the break, and for a night it was just Kian and Mark in the house by themselves.

Nothing of note happened. They watched some TV, had some pizza, and went to bed. In the morning they got up and went for a run. Mark was getting faster, had caught Kian a while back and had gotten a hot breakfast for his troubles. Now they were neck-and-neck, charging around the block with their hats pulled low. They went back, had a shower, and not long after were on the road, Kian snoozing in the passenger seat of Mark's jeep while they drove.

It was a nice jeep. Mark hadn't gotten a chance to take it out much, not with the traffic situation in Dublin and them always being at the mercy of a security escort. It was a profoundly sensible car, black and boxy. When Kian woke up it was to the sight of Mark's hair streaming back in the wind, one arm leant on the window and the other steering, a look of deep contentment on his face.

“Hey.” Kian croaked. He stretched, returned the smile he was given. He looked around for familiar landmarks, spotted a bridge he knew quite well. “We must be close.”

“Only a couple of miles.” Mark nodded. His fingers were tapping the driver's side windowsill along to the music on the radio. Some pop song. “You were pretty tired.”

“I was. Yeah.” Kian yawned. “It's been a big couple of weeks.” He stretched again, tilted his seat back up now that he was awake. “How are you?”

“I'm fine.” Mark pursed his lips, navigating around a large puddle from the recent storms. “All in one piece, apparently.”

“How many pieces are you usually in?”

“At least six. Sometimes eight on a good day.” Mark smirked. There was a farmer up ahead, herding cattle across the road. Mark braked and they sat there watching smelly cows tramp slowly by. “There's the piece where I'm singing, and the piece where I'm dancing, and the piece where I'm answering stupid questions about my star sign, and the piece where I'm getting my photo taken...” He shrugged. “And the piece where I'm mental, of course.”

“That's only five. And you're not mental.” Kian leaned against his door, regarding his friend. The cows were still going by, seemed to be stretching on forever. There was a tractor coming in behind them as well. “What's the sixth one?”

“That's the other one.”

“Makes sense.” Kian laughed, reaching out to touch his hand. “What's the other one?”

“Depends on the day, really.” Mark bit his lip, looking around them. “Are we ever going to talk about the fact that I gave you a handjob?”

Kian didn't know what to say. Mark was looking straight ahead, determinedly not making eye contact. Just watching the cattle flow past.

“Did you want to?” He asked finally.

Mark let his lip go with a soft pop, leaned on his window, his face rested in his hand.

“I really don't know. I feel like it's the sort of thing you're supposed to talk about.” He glanced over at Kian, just for a moment, his eyes flicking back to the road straight away. “Is it going to happen again?”

“Did you want it to?”

“I... really don't know how to answer that.” Mark sighed. “You told me to do it.”

“So it was my decision?” Kian asked. Saw Mark flinch. “You had nothing to do with it?”

“I'd prefer to say I didn't.” Mark was biting his lip again, the plump flesh gravitating back under his teeth as he finished each sentence. He was worrying it now, his bottom lip sliding back and forth under straight white teeth. “It feels a bit too much like...”

“Like what?”

“Like something I'm not ready to deal with yet.” Mark looked down at his lap, his lip getting slowly redder as he gnawed it.

“Then what does that make me?”

“I don't know.” Mark closed his eyes. Opened them again. The tractor was just clearing the road now, and Kian waited for him to recommence driving. “What do you think I am?”

“I think you need to figure that out for yourself.” He hesitated, then reached out to put a hand on Mark's thigh, felt the muscles jump under his palm. “I'm not gay.”

“Okay.” Mark nodded. The car lurched forward suddenly. “I know I was in a state. I kind of want to pass it off as me just being a bit fucked up. Does that sound like something we can do?”

“You're not fucked up.” Kian shook his head. “Did you like doing it?”

“I liked being told to do it.” His cheeks were pink. Kian watched the red flush stain his cheeks, trickle down his neck. “Like it wasn't my fault. Like I didn't have to think about wanting to do it.” The fields were starting to turn into cottages now, the motorway turning into smaller streets. There were low walls lining the road, regular houses starting to pop up. “I wanted to do it.” He said quietly. “I know that's probably freaking you out, but...”

“Not at all.” Kian squeezed his thigh again. Didn't remove it. Didn't know how else to comfort him. “Are you gay?”

“I don't know.”

Kian nodded. He could see the town centre starting to come up, the familiar bridges and streets. They weren't too far from the Carlton Cafe.

“If I told you to tell me the truth, what would you say?”

“That I don't know.” The car was slowing at a pedestrian crossing. Mark glanced at Kian again. “I don't like to think about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I've got enough to think about at the moment, and it seems like a lot to deal with when I'm already dealing with other things. When I'm down I don't have the energy to think about it, and when I'm up I don't want to ruin it. I'm too fucked up. I worry that maybe the only reason I might be is because of all the chemicals and shit. Like I'm confused, so it makes me think things that aren't real, and I don't want to go saying I am, and then it turns out I'm not and it's just the medication.”

“So the pills are turning you gay?” Mark shook his head.

“It's not that simple.”

“How can I help?”

“I don't know that you can. I just have to figure it out by myself.”

“When are you going to do that?”

“When I have five seconds free for it to mean anything.” They swung through town, headed out for Kian's house. “I don't have time to go out with anyone. I don't really want to. So it doesn't matter who I want to shag, because I'm not shagging anyway.” He shrugged. “Like, when was the last time you went out with anyone?”

“A while.” Kian admitted.

“So it wouldn't make a difference who you wanted to shag. You wouldn't be doing it anyway.”

“If I found someone I wanted to shag, I'd be doing it though.”

“And I haven't found someone I want to shag. So it doesn't matter.”

“Except for me.”

“That doesn't...” Mark pinched his brow, his nose wrinkling up. “You don't want to shag me, so again it doesn't matter. Sorry, that sounds like I'm in love with you or something.”

“Are you?”

“No! God...” Mark laughed, his hand shifting restlessly on the wheel. His other hand joined it after a moment, navigating them through the smaller lanes. “It's...” He gestured with his fingers, thumb still hooked around the steering wheel. “I love you. You've been really good through a really weird time. You're my best friend, and honestly, if I hadn't had you the last few months I don't know if... if I'd be here.” He swallowed. “If I would have just quit. The band. Life, maybe. Things were getting...” Kian felt his heart lurch. “And then I worry that I'm depending too much on you, and if things change I'll just go back to the way I was.”

“I'm here as long as you need me.” Kian promised. The car stopped, and when Kian looked up he realised they were in front of his parents' house.

“We're here.” Mark said. Their eyes met properly for the first time since Kian had woken. He stared at Mark, not sure what to say, caught by that gaze. He usually was. There was something about Mark's eyes, the indefinable layers, the way Kian was never quite sure if he was confused or far too understanding for his own good. He bit his own lip, noticing how red and swollen his friend's lips were.

“Call me if you need me.” Kian said. He wanted to lift his hand and open the door, couldn't seem to. “I'm always there.”

“I know you are.” Mark gave him a lopsided smile. “But I'll be fine.”

Kian took a deep breath, grabbed his bag. Climbed out.

He watched Mark's car drive away until it was out of sight.

 

*

 

“Hello Mrs. Feehily. Can Mark come out to play, please?”

He was stood on Mark's family's front step. Mark had offered to pick him up on the way back to Dublin, but Kian's father had been heading that way anyway and had offered to drop him off.

“I don't know if he's finished his homework yet, young Egan.” Marie laughed, leaning in to give him a hug. “How are you, lad?”

“Oh, you know. Not up to much.” He dusted his knuckles on his leather jacket, gave her a cheeky grin. “He's not ready yet, is he?”

“Are you surprised?” She rolled her eyes, stepping back. “Come in and sit down if you like. Markus!” She raised her voice towards the stairs. “Kian's here!”

“Almost ready!” Came the call back.

“So we'll see him in an hour then?” Kian suggested.

“If we're lucky.” She gave him a friendly smirk. “Cup of tea?”

She bustled about, got the kettle on. He tried to help but she told him not to bother. Soon there was a mug of tea in front of him, chocolate biscuits on the coffee table. He was sunk into an armchair, a little bit overwhelmed by the familiarity. Remembered sitting in this chair only a few years ago while Mark sneakily poured vodka from the liquor cabinet into a Gatorade bottle. They had gotten trashed that night, woken up on Michael's bedroom floor badly hungover at almost midday. Mark's parents hadn't been fooled – they'd all copped it once they got home.

“So how's Mark doing?” She said it lightly, but her eyes looked a little strained. “You know, with everything?”

He hesitated. She noticed.

“He told me you know about his...” She gestured slightly, feeling for the right word. “...troubles.”

“It's no trouble. Honestly.” His cheeks warmed a little under her evaluating stare. “I'm keeping an eye on him.”

“Good. I'm glad.” She nodded. “He needs someone like that, I think. Says he's fine and then retreats into his own little world.” She hesitated. “I almost didn't want him to join up with you lot but I thought it was just a hobby and it made him happy. And then you got big and I couldn't exactly say...”

“I think we were all a bit surprised.” Kian chuckled. “He has bad days, but I'm trying not to let him get caught up inside himself, you know? Distract him.”

“And he's taking his medication alright? He tends to go off it if he gets stressed, but if I ask him...”

“Oh, tell me about it.” Kian nodded, looking up at the ceiling. He could hear Mark moving around, the stomp of feet on the floor upstairs. “We're working it out. I can't make him take it, but I can look disapproving until he does.”

“He doesn't call me so much any more. He used to call all the time in a state, want me to tell him it was all okay. I don't know if I should be relieved or not.” There were tears standing in her eyes. “Sorry. I know he's rich and famous now, but he's still my little boy.” She bit her lip. “It was hard. He's better now. He'd barely talk. I couldn't get him out of bed for days, and...” She shook her head, looking away. “Just... make sure he's okay?”

“I am. I will.” He didn't know what to do, so he leaned over and hugged her. “I'll get him to call you more often.”

“No. I don't want him feeling guilty.” She sucked in a breath. “He starts to feel guilty and then it gets worse. As long as he's alright, I'm fine. I see him on the television all the time, and he looks good. Like he's happy. Is he happy?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” Kian nodded. “I don't call my mam nearly enough either, if it's any consolation. Half the time we're not even sure what timezone it is.”

“I know.” She smiled. “I heard he was dating that Mandy Moore girl.”

“Oh, not true. Shane said it to be stupid and it kind of took off.” Kian snorted. “No, he's not had a girlfriend in a while, I don't think. Not since that girl Louis made him date.”

“Louis makes him date?”

“Sort of. I think he just wanted to make it look like he wasn't...” He trailed off, realised what he'd been about to say. She raised an eyebrow.

“...wasn't gay?”

Kian winced, looked down at his lap. “More or less. Yeah.”

“It's fine. We always sort of knew.” She laughed gently, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. “He said anything to you?”

“Not really.”

“He'll say something in his own time.” She shrugged. “I don't mind either way, really. As long as he's happy.” There were footsteps coming down the stairs now. “Mark, you're being rude up there.” She called out, turning around. “Kian doesn't want to entertain me, he wants to get on the road.”

“I'm coming!” Mark tramped down into the room, his sports-bag slung over his shoulder. Kian didn't realise he'd missed him. He got a grin, and Mark wandered over to ruffle his hair. “Hey babe.”

“Darling.” Kian retorted, jerking around to snap at Mark's hand with his teeth. Mark yanked it back, laughing and shaking his fingers. “We had better get going though. We're due at the airport in about...” He checked his watch. “Five hours. Sorry.” He glanced at Marie. “Single launch.”

“It's fine. Go live your rockstar lives and forget your mother.”

“Not a chance.” Mark leaned over and hugged her, tilting awkwardly so he didn't smack her in the head with his bag.. “Love you, mam.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” She kissed his cheek, pushed herself up. “I'll walk you out.”


	13. Chapter 13

**They can have their universe**

**But we'll be in the dirt designing stars**

 

Things kept escalating. Against All Odds went number one, then less than a month after Nicky's birthday My Love was about to do it as well. Another potential record – seven UK number ones in a row from debut. They got completely destroyed after the announcement came out for their sixth, of course. Kian couldn't remember half the night, just knew he'd woken up in the bathtub with purple marker pen on his face and vomit down the front of his shirt.

And Mark was fine.

He was back on a half-tablet after he had started to get slower and more tired. Had asked Kian if he should adjust the dose a bit. Kian hadn't told him what to do, had just sat him gently down and said it was his decision, asked him how he felt and what felt right to him. Mark had nodded slowly, then leaned into his shoulder, his hair brushing Kian's chin. They'd stayed there for a bit, watching telly, only getting up when they heard Shane come in the front door and realised that they were basically cuddling on the couch and it would probably look suspicious.

They did that a lot now. Kian wasn't sure why. He'd just sit down and Mark would too, because they lived in the same house or were in the same hotel room, and for some reason Mark's legs would end up thrown over Kian's lap, or Kian would lay down and put his head on Mark's thighs, feel fingers stroke absently through his hair.

They went on a couple of radio tours, pushing the album in advance of release. The tour bus was hectic, all in each other's pockets. It was sort of nice though. Bryan was renting a place with Kerry, was hardly ever around when they didn't have to be somewhere, and Nicky had moved in with Georgina nearby. Shane was splitting his time with Sligo where he could and was hardly ever in, was with Gillian half the time or mucking around getting the building started on his house. It was cool to be with everyone all the time, hanging out, getting drunk and playing video-games on a cramped bus, watching the road roll by underneath them, the white lines like blurred punctuation marks on the tarmac.

So the rest of the time Mark and Kian hung out together, joked that they should probably start behaving like adults and get their own places, both knowing they couldn't be bothered. The record company moved them into a smaller place, an apartment with three bedrooms instead of five, though the third one only got used half the time. They did stupid things, made eggs at three in the morning, went bowling down the hallways with empty wine-bottles as pins, using a frisbee Kian had found abandoned at the park instead of a ball. Found a new running route now that they'd been relocated. Kian told Mark which jacket to wear, and what to order when they got dinner, and to go alphabetise all their CDs when he could see him starting to lose focus.

It was easy. It was fun. There was a tour in the offing for the next year, Simon and Louis were saying. They had regular meetings when they were actually in the country, sat around a conference table while the two bigwigs put their heads together like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They were trying to get them signed up to do the Comic Relief single in the new year, said it would be great exposure. The album was complete, ready to launch in a few weeks time. They were supposed to do a roadshow of sorts, some mental thing over forty hours with no sleep. It sounded exciting enough, but Kian didn't know if Mark could handle it. They'd be filming the whole thing, a crew following them around while they got more tired and more cranky. Mark was okay at the moment, hadn't got in trouble for a while, but there was no telling when these things would pop up.

Then, three days before the album launched, Mark had a bad one.

They were rehearsing for a little concert for competition winners in a hotel in London. Well, they said concert, but the whole thing was mimed, just some footage to splice into the DVD. They had to dance, and none of them were impressed with the moves. Mark in particular hated them, was looking more and more frustrated every time Priscilla walked them through the steps. She was cool, Priscilla, if a bit of a hard-case, but she was getting frustrated too, kept stopping them and sending them back to starting positions. They were on stools for most of it, but Simon wanted them to show off a little bit more movement, a bit of fun. Kian didn't know what he was going for, but this couldn't have been it. They weren't the bloody Backstreet Boys, doing backflips and all that.

“No! Mark!” The younger boy paused, his eyes confused. “Left, not bloody right! Arms, arms, cross, bounce.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled. They all stopped, heading back to the starting positions. Shane was starting to get annoyed, Bryan was getting distracted. Nicky was staring at his shoes.

“You've only got two more days to get this right! Focus!”  
  
“Sorry.” He breathed again, biting his lip. Then Kian saw it. Saw his hands shake just a little bit, the corners of his mouth turn down. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his feet shifting on the polished wooden floor. “I'm trying.”

She crossed her arms, her face twisting into a scowl. Kian realised he'd stepped a little closer to Mark without noticing it.

“Try harder.” She pointed at the others. “Shane's got it, Nicky's got it. Everyone else has got it. What's the problem?”

“I'm... I...” He swallowed. “Sorry. I'm letting everyone down. I'll...”

And then he walked out.

“Fuck.” Bryan said quietly. “Bit unfair, Pris?”

“Mark!” She shouted after him. “Get back here.”

But the door was already closed.

Kian looked at her. Looked at the other lads, standing there helplessly, looked at the closed door.

And followed.

 

*

 

His phone rang when he was on his way downstairs. He hadn't found Mark yet, had ducked upstairs to check if he was in the room, but there was no sign he'd gone there at all. He wasn't sure where he was headed now, but Mark wasn't picking up his phone and he figured maybe he was at the hotel bar or something.

He fished it out of his pocket, stabbed the green button without even checking the caller I.D.

“Kian?”

“...hey Louis.” He felt himself sag. Fucking great. “What's up?”  
  
“Apparently you and Mark have just stropped out on a rehearsal.” Louis wasn't shouting, but he was getting to that excitable stage where it was only a matter of time. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I'm sorry, Louis. There was a bit of a...” Kian didn't know how to answer that. An incident? An argument? Priscilla behaving like a demanding bitch and Mark not taking it well? “I'm on it. I'll get him back.”

“So it's Mark's fault again? Jesus, Kian. I thought we fucking well dealt with this shit.”

“We did. It's not his fault. He's tired. We're all tired.”

“So why isn't Priscilla calling me about Bryan stropping out? Or Nicky? Why is it always fucking Mark?” His voice was getting louder now, more shrill. Kian thought it might have been quite funny in other circumstances. “He's out. I'm done.”

“Louis, you can't...”

“Get him back to that fucking rehearsal in an hour or he's done. I'll fucking dock his pay if he isn't going to show up to work. Why should I pay him if he can't even do a couple of fucking steps. For god's sake, Kian. You want him to bring the rest of you down?”

“He's fucking _tired,_ Louis.” Kian was shouting back now, was stood in the middle of the lobby and trying not to raise his voice too much. The fans were following them everywhere now. There had been a gaggle of girls outside when they'd come in. He stormed into the toilets for a bit of privacy, leaning up against the wall near the hand-dryer. “Bryan fucking _collapsed_ in America, and you sent him home to get better. Why are you being so hard on Mark? He's a better singer than all of his. He's the only fucking reason this thing works at all.” There was silence from the other end. He could hear Louis breathing.

“Get him back.” Louis said finally. Kian wasn't sure if he'd won or not. Wasn't sure if you could call this winning, anyway. “You want to protect him? Fine. He's your responsibility. Next fuck up and you're both out.”

“Louis...” Kian bit back the rest of that sentence. Something about Mark already being his responsibility. He shook his head. He'd had enough of this. He didn't know where Mark was, and nobody seemed to _care_. “Fine. Do whatever you like. If he's not up to it, though, I'm not making him do it. Fire me! Come on!” He was almost yelling now. Caught himself. “I fucking dare you.” He bit out, feeling his throat burn with the effort it took not to scream.

He hung up before Louis could reply, then he left the building to look for Mark.

He'd had enough of this shit.

 

*

 

He found Mark two hours later. Had wandered the streets nearby, didn't know where to go. Didn't know where Mark would go, if he hadn't gone back to his room. By the time he gave up it was getting dark and he was in a panic. Mark wasn't answering his phone. He was at wits end, headed back to the hotel to regroup and look for a clue, maybe, of where Mark had gone.

When he opened the door the television was on and there was a lump under the blankets.

“Fucking hell, I've been looking for you everywhere!” He didn't mean to shout, but it was impossible not to. His throat felt clogged with panic, his very fingertips buzzing with nervous energy. He watched the lump shrink into itself and stormed over to the bed, yanking the blankets back. Mark shrank tighter, shivering in on himself. Kian felt his heart break a little bit, all the fight rushing out of him in a moment.

He sat down. Pulled the blankets up around his legs, Mark's head next to his hip.

“Sorry.”

“I was so fucking worried about you.” Kian scolded. “Where the hell did you go?”

“Sat in the toilets for a bit.” Mark murmured. “Heard you shouting.”

“Shit. Sorry.” Kian bit his lip. He hadn't bloody thought to check if any of the stalls were occupied, had just wanted to get out of the public eye a bit. “Louis was being a prick.”  
  
“He wants me out.”

“No he doesn't. He's just bluffing. He's fired us like four times already.” He nudged Mark up a little, slid underneath him, Mark's head resting on his thigh, body curled up tight between his legs.

“You'd get fired for me?”

“If it came to that? Yeah. Probably.” Kian conceded. “It won't, though.” He stroked dark hair, felt the tremor beneath pale skin. “I'm sorry about Priscilla.”

“I was trying.”

“I know.” Kian smiled. “We're all shit, though. She doesn't know what she's talking about.”

“You're not.” Mark shook his head. “You're really good. I keep trying to copy what you're doing.”  
  
“First mistake.” Kian chuckled. “I wouldn't be watching me.”

“I would.” Mark breathed out slowly. Kian kept stroking his hair, not sure what the say to that. “I'm so tired.”

“So sleep.” Kian suggested.

“Can't. Didn't sleep last night either.”

“Didn't you?”

“No. Kept waking up.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Didn't want to wake you.” Mark yawned, snuggling into his thigh. “You looked tired.”

“You can always wake me.” Kian told him. “I might be a grumpy shit, but you can. I'd rather you did instead of knowing you were sitting there by yourself.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yeah, why not?” Kian slid out from under his head, moved down to lay next to him. He pulled Mark in, feeling the stress in the curled-up body, began to gently stroke his back, felt a face nuzzle into his neck. He considered just telling Mark to sleep, but he didn't want him getting upset if he couldn't. Mark uncurled a little, his hand coming over to rest on Kian's chest. “There's nothing wrong with you.” He said gently. “You're just fine.”

“Apart from the obvious.”

“Nothing wrong with you.” Kian repeated. “Anything I can do?”

“No. Just feel tired. Headache. Can't...” His eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, I want to sleep.”

Kian pulled back a little. They were both laid on their sides, facing each other. Mark's lips were dry, his features a little drawn in with pain. Kian cupped his cheek lightly, felt the curve of his jaw when he moved a little. He felt too thin. Not physically, just generally insubstantial, though he'd lost weight as well. He leaned their foreheads together, saw blue eyes open less than an inch away. Mark's breath sped up a little.

“I'm...” He swallowed. “You need to move.”

“Why?”

“Because I think I'm about to kiss you.”

“Oh.” Kian said quietly. His heart was beating in his throat all of a sudden. “Do you want to?”

“I...” Mark's eyes closed again. He felt warm and soft, tight with tension. Kian moved his hand up a little, to trace one eyebrow. It was oddly mesmerising. He knew he should probably pull away, but something about the shift of his skin, the way he could see every pore, see the hurt and strain... “I don't know. Do you want me to?”

Kian shook his head. He didn't fucking know.

“Tell me what you're thinking.”

Mark's eyes were still closed. His lips trembled. “I'm worried it's because you've been nice to me and I'm translating that to something else. I'm really worried that you're going to walk out on me if I do. Because why the hell would anybody want to kiss me? I'm stupid and fat and worthless and I can't even do a simple fucking dance move. I don't want you to because I'm afraid that you'll figure it out. I don't even like my mam kissing my cheek sometimes, because I'm frightened that she'll notice that I'm not worth it after all. Like even when we're just sitting on the couch together, I feel like you don't want to be there. That you're just there because you don't want me to fuck up your life and you're babysitting me. And you're not gay, anyway. And I might not be either. Or I might be. And this'll just make it worse and more confusing.”

When he opened his eyes they were brimming with tears. “I'm so fucking tired of thinking all the time, Ki. It's like every time I think anything it's starts growing in my head until I can't even see what I was thinking about in the first place.”

“What were you thinking about in the first place?”

“That I was about to kiss you. Which is a stupid fucking thing to think.”

“Mark...” Kian sighed. He leaned up, pecked his forehead. “It's not stupid. I just don't know why you'd want to kiss me, of all people.” He laughed gently. “But there's nothing wrong with wanting to. Don't worry about being gay or not, just worry about what's going to make you happy.”

“It feels like nothing ever will.” Mark admitted. “And when I am happy I'm just lying to myself until the next time.”

Kian knew what he was about to say, as he lay there looking at Mark, was sure he should probably try to stop himself. His hand was still on Mark's cheek, the tension obvious in the set of his jaw, the exhaustion in his eyes heartbreaking. He licked his lips, saw Mark do the same. Felt hot breath on his face that smelled like unshed tears.

“Would you feel better if I kissed you?”

Mark's eyes widened in surprise, then dropped to Kian's lips. Kian moved his hand, his fingers brushing through hair that still had a bit of gel tangling it, then forward, his thumb tracing the length of Mark's nose.

“Do you want to?” He asked again.

“I want...” Mark's eyes closed on a deep breath. “I want you to want to.”

“What if I did?” Did he? God, he didn't know. Thought he might. Not because Mark was a boy, but because his lips looked delicious, because Kian wanted to help. To guide him through this fucked up thing they'd somehow wound up doing together.

“Then I think I'd like that.” His eyes opened again, searching. “Tell me to and I will.”

“Marky...” His friend's name felt unfathomably sweet on his lips. He reached between them, caught Mark's hand. It had been held stiffly by his side, but it loosened a little to let Kian drag it up and put it to his own face. Felt fingers stumble for a moment then curve to his cheek, a thumb brushing his bottom lip.

“Tell me to.” He murmured, his eyes darker. Kian could feel anxious breaths against his chest, wasn't sure if it was Mark or himself.

“Kiss me.” Kian mumbled, closing his eyes. Felt lips press to his a moment later.

He felt Mark breathe against his closed lips. Kian smiled, letting his mouth open slightly, felt Mark's echo it. Then it was warm and wet and fuck, he was pushing his tongue into Mark's mouth and tilting his head and Mark was making a _noise_. He felt warmth spill through his body, something more than comfort and less than lust, felt fingers slide up his cheek, push into the hair behind his ear, and did the same, holding Mark still while their tongues wove together, soft, feeling Mark relax like he was giving in to it.

It ended a moment later. Couldn't have been a long kiss. Maybe five seconds at most. Mark licked his lips, his eyes big and startled.

“Um.” Mark swallowed. “Shit.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He bit his lip. It was moist, and Kian couldn't stop looking at it. “Yeah, I'm okay. Shit.”

“Was that okay?”

“That was...” He was blushing now. Kian rubbed their noses together, felt Mark giggle. “A bit nice. Was it okay for you?”

“It was a bit nice.” Kian admitted. He didn't think it was even sexual thing. It was just nice to be... held, or something. There was a sort of familiarity in it. Not like they were just friends, or like getting a kiss on the cheek from his mam, but something else. Something that he couldn't say was even romantic. Just something... nice. Like kissing for the sake of kissing. And because it made Mark feel better. “Did you want to do it again?”

“I think so.” Mark's fingers let go of his hair, ran down his neck. Kian smiled, was about to lean in again, when...

They jumped at the loud, banging knock on the door.

“Mark? You in there?” Anto. Heard him say something quietly. Then Shane was calling out too, then Bryan.

“Shit.” Mark muttered. “I forgot about...”

“It's okay.” Kian soothed, pecking his nose. “They're your friends. They care. They just want to make sure you're okay.”

“I'm fine!” He looked at Kian shyly. “I'm fine.” He bit his lip, glancing at the door. “What do we do?”

“We get up, tell them you're sorry, you weren't feeling well, and then we go down to dinner.” Kian said firmly. “We make small talk, hang out for a bit, and then tonight we come back upstairs and I'll help you walk through the dance moves so you can impress Priscilla tomorrow. Yes?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Kian said firmly. The knocking was getting louder. They could probably hear the TV. “Now go into the bathroom, have a quick shower, and I'll tell them you had to do a runner to the toilets earlier. But you're feeling better now. Right?”

“Right.” Mark nodded. Then he smiled, leant in. Their lips touched for a moment, and Kian had to stop himself sinking into it.

“Go on.” He gestured. “And make it cold.” He looked down meaningfully. “You're being inappropriate.”

Mark laughed and climbed out of bed, headed towards the bathroom.


	14. Chapter 14

**Can't we just let go of what we can't control**

**And if the world should spin too fast I'll slow it down for you**

 

Kian was fucking tired. He'd been awake for almost thirty hours and honestly didn't know how. He'd been upbeat at first, mucking around on the plane and trying to keep everyone in good spirits, but there was a limit to his energy and being woken up by Anto after three hours of sleep did not at all help. He'd said he couldn't. They told him he had to. So he did. And now he was scribbling his name on CD covers, not even sure if that was his signature any more.

He'd tried to keep an eye on Mark, but it hadn't been easy. He'd gotten shepherded into a car with Nicky, while the other three were in the car in front. He didn't want to argue the point, figured it would only lead to more questions. He'd sort of been glad that Shane and Nicky had ended up on the bed together, because he wasn't sure what would happen if it was he and Mark. They'd slept together the last two nights. Just slept. A year ago he would have baulked at the idea, but waking up at two in the morning from a bad dream and feeling the weight of warm, soft arms around his waist, Mark's breath on the back of his neck... it wasn't entirely bad.

They were all going a bit mental, though, so it wasn't like anyone would notice Mark looking tired. He'd been chugging Red Bull like mad, looked far too chipper for his own good. He hadn't slept properly the night before, but then none of them had. Not off the buzz of My Love going number one. They'd all stood up, erupting into manic joy, and when Mark stood up and hugged Bryan first, Kian couldn't help but feel a little...

But he'd shrugged it off. Watched Mark fish his phone out and call his mam. Patted his shoulder on the way past, gotten a hyperactive smile in return and a wink. Told himself it was just Mark trying to be careful, not let on that there was something going on between the two of them. Not that there was. But from the outside it wasn't exactly easy to explain.

They were on the way back to the airport, out of Birmingham and headed for London. Mark had a Red Bull clasped firmly in his hand. Girls were losing it as they went to the car, being held back by security, bashing on the windows of the station wagons. Bryan was screaming back, laughing hysterically. Shane was chewing gum and stalking purposefully towards the cars, Nicky slouching along behind him.

Some girls started up a chant of his name and he waved, got a shriek in return. Apparently they loved him. One shouted something really filthy. Ahead of him, Mark laughed, glancing back over his shoulder. Kian grinned, sliding into the car. The door closed, blocking out the screams. Nicky was pressed against the other window, waving.

They made it to the airport, somehow. Bryan ended up next to Mark. He had a feeling that was intentional, not on Mark's part, but it seemed like Bryan was trying to get him away all the time. Kept starting separate conversations and trying to split him away from the group. Maybe it was just Kian being paranoid. Not jealous, obviously, because it wasn't like Mark belonged to him or anything, but he liked looking out for the younger boy, liked being the one to know things and take care of him, and be the one who snuck off with him and had private conversations. Bryan had been like that since the other day when Mark had walked out on rehearsals, seemed to know there was something more going on than what he was being told. Nicky and Shane were a bit like that too, but they were wrapped up in their own stuff and had just been happy everything was back on track. Bryan though...

Mark was in the aisle seat, so they weren't separated, but there was a camera in their faces and it wasn't like Kian could talk to him. Bryan was babbling on about something, pausing for Mark to get his two cents in. He looked completely out of it, hopped up on Red Bull and strung out on exhaustion. Seemed okay, though, just a bit over-caffeinated and under-rested. Bryan had an arm around his shoulder, was saying something that was making Mark laugh. Kian felt his stomach sink. The camera guys wandered away to get some footage of Shane trying to take a nap. Nicky was smacking Anto with a pillow. Kian watched Mark shove Bryan lightly and burst out laughing.

They landed, eventually, went to the last signing. It was a blur. Then they had to go do a bit for radio, and then they were done. Kian couldn't believe it. It was pissing down raining, it was dark, there was a beer in his hand instead of a pen, and he was sitting the hell down in a chair that wasn't thousands of feet above the ground, was instead in the function room of their own hotel, with their beds only a lift-ride away.

Mark was up talking to Bryan still, was leant against the wall in the corner, a coke in his hand. Bryan was gesturing, saying something that was making Mark roll his eyes and smile. He had been okay through the whole thing. Kian wasn't sure how to feel about that, had spent the whole time trying to watch over him, but he seemed to be perfectly fine, if a bit mental from the caffeine.

Kian stood up. His chest felt tight, and he didn't know why. Mark glanced over, gave him a wave. Kian waved back, then pointed meaningfully to his right, indicating for Mark to follow. Then he started to walk, heard Mark fall into step behind him a moment later.

“What's up?”

“Nothing. Just...” Kian turned a corner, pushed into another room. There were tables in here, all folded up against the walls, and stacked chairs. Some sort of storage closet. The door closed behind them. It was quiet, suddenly, a little dimmer than the hall. He turned around to find Mark regarding him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” He leaned back against the wall. Mark stepped closer. “Do something for me.”

“Okay.” Mark nodded. “What?”

“I don't know. I just need...” He shook his head, not able to find the words. “Stand on one leg.”

Mark did, laughing slightly, then wobbled, holding onto his raised foot with one hand. Kian smirked, watched as he fought to keep his balance. “Don't fall over.”

“Doing my best.” Mark snorted. His knee bent, and for a second Kian thought he might lose it. Then he was hopping a little, staying upright. “How long for?”

“Until I say.”

“Right.” Mark nodded. “Can I lean against the wall?”

“No.” Kian shook his head. Mark bit his lip, closing his eyes for a moment to concentrate. Then he overbalanced for a second, put out an arm to right himself, his hands making circles in the air. He giggled.

“Can I lean on you?”

“Yes.” Kian stepped in, felt a hand grab his shoulder. Then Mark was standing solidly against him, his foot shifting to keep his balance.

“Why am I doing this?”

“Because I want you to. Stop asking questions.” Kian closed his eyes for a minute, felt Mark shake, his hand shift. “What were you talking to Bryan about?”

“Not much. Just things. You know. The fans and that. It's been a mental couple of days.”

“It has.” Kian nodded, his eyes still closed, just focusing on Mark's voice. “And you coped okay?”

“I did. Yeah.” The grip tightened for a moment when Mark tilted. “My leg's starting to hurt.”

“Keep holding it.” Kian ordered. “Just for a little bit longer.”

“Yep.” Mark tilted again, his hand struggling for purchase. Kian opened his eyes again. Mark looked back, his eyes bright and clear, a little bit jittery from all the Red Bull. He put a hand over Mark's, held it still on his shoulder.

“If I told you to leave the party, go back to the room, what would you do?”

“I'd go back to the room. Are you going to ask me to?”

“No.” Kian shook his head. “This is your day too. I want you to have fun. You deserve it.” He took a deep breath. “What if I told you to hold your breath until you passed out?”

“Would you do that?”

“No.” Kian shook his head. “I'd never hurt you.” He sighed. “Sorry. I'm really tired.”

“You want a hug?”

“In a minute.” He watched Mark wobble, felt the hand grab his shoulder harder. “Just hold it for five more seconds, okay? Five. Four. Three.” He paused, saw Mark's eyes focusing on him, not looking away. Determined. “Two.” He leaned in, put his arm around Mark's waist. Felt them press together, felt his own body take Mark's weight. “One.” He said finally. “It's fine. You can stop.”

Mark's leg dropped like a stone. He began to shake it out, grimacing. “Pins and needles.” He explained.. Kian laughed, lifting his leg to rub Mark's calf with his foot. A chin pressed to his shoulder, hands moulding to his back.

“Thanks.” He said. Felt Mark nod.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine. Just got a bit...” Jealous. Resentful. Worried. Possessive. “Overwhelmed.”

“Did you want to go back to the room?” Mark asked. Kian shook his head.

“Yes. But it'll look bad.” He pulled back a little, fingers finding their way to the familiar curve of Mark's jaw. “Let's stay just long enough. I'll leave first, and then I'll see you in a bit.” He wanted Mark to leave first, get out of Bryan's grasp, but knew that would just draw worry from the others. Louis was here, had barely mentioned the incident the other day, especially once Mark had gotten the performances filmed without fuss, but Kian knew he was holding onto it until later, until he needed to use it as leverage.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah.” Kian tilted his face up, felt lips press chastely to his, their noses rub together. “I like kissing you. That sounds mental, because you're a guy, but I like doing it.”

“I like doing it too.” Mark said softly. “We should do it more.”

“Okay.” He looked down, saw the shimmer of something hidden in the folds of Mark's collar. Reached a finger in and hooked it. “How long you been wearing this? I didn't notice you wearing it.”

“Oh...” Mark blushed, looking down at the chain. It was the one Kian had given him for his birthday. “All day. Or two days. You know, through this thing. I didn't want people seeing it. It um...” He shrugged. “It makes me feel better. I thought I might need it, you know?”

“Why didn't you want people to see it?”

“Because it's mine. And you gave it to me.” Mark was blushing harder now. “Which sounds silly because it's like... it's jewellery, so it's meant to be seen, right? But I like wearing it. Knowing no-one else knows except you. Like it's reminding me I can come find you if I need to and you'll tell me what to do.” He bit his lip, eyes downcast. “Is that okay?”

“It's...” Kian swallowed the sudden, unexplainable lump in his throat. “It's really sweet. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Mark shrugged. “I don't think I could have gotten this far without you. I'd be out on my arse months ago.” He looked up. “I want to go back to the room and sleep. With you. You know?”

“We can do that.” Kian nodded. “I'll go in a minute. And I'll see you in...” He reached into Mark's jacket pocket, grabbed his phone and scrolled through until he found the alarm, began to set it. “Sixteen minutes and thirteen seconds.”

“Ooh, two minutes past midnight.” Mark laughed. “Will I turn into a pumpkin?” Kian smirked, realised his hands were still on Mark's waist. Let go. Mark didn't step away. “One more kiss?”

“No.” Kian said firmly, saw light dance in Mark's eyes at the instruction. “When we get upstairs.”

“Now I just want to come with you.”

“Fifteen minutes and fifty-eight seconds.” He tucked the phone back into Mark's top pocket. “Not a second earlier or later. Okay?”

“Promise.” Mark leaned in for a moment, pecked his cheek gently. “See you tomorrow.” He murmured. Kian laughed and followed him back out into the hall.

 

*

 

It was eighteen minutes past midnight.

His phone had beeped at fourteen past. A quick apology. Bryan had bailed Mark up, wanted to talk to him about something, and there was no getting away. Kian sat on the bed for long seconds, feeling tenser by the minute.

He got up. He felt awake and exhausted at the same time. Considered having a shower, and then couldn't be bothered. Walked around the room for a few minutes. Turned on the TV and put it at the right volume so it'd be ready when Mark came up. Considered going back downstairs, but he'd already said his goodnights and didn't want to answer questions about why he was back. He sat down on the bed again, resting his head in his hands.

This was fucking stupid.

He pulled out his phone. There was nothing there. Tossed it on the side table. Considered sending a text, telling Mark to get upstairs right fucking now. He wasn't even sure why he was annoyed. Mark was his own person, could be a bit late if he wanted to. But Kian had fucking told him. Had asked him to do something very specific, and he hadn't. So what the fuck was the point of any of this? Was Mark just playing along to humour him or something? Didn't actually need or want the help at all? Shit, he'd been not too bad lately, apart from the thing the other day. Was he okay after all? Was Kian just being fucking manipulated?

There were footsteps in the hall. A card in the lock.

“I'm sorry. Shit. I'm so sorry.” Mark was saying it before he even had the door open all the way. Kian looked up, was just in time to see panicked blue eyes before Mark dropped to his knees between and hugged Kian's waist. The door latched shut again. Kian looked down, automatically running his fingers through dark hair, feeling breath through his shirt as Mark rubbed his face into his stomach.

“What happened?”

“I'm sorry...” His breath hitched, and Kian ran a hand down the back of his neck, trying to comfort him. “I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry. He wouldn't let me go, and...”

“I set your alarm.”

“I know.” Mark hugged his waist tighter. “I tried.”

“Try harder next time.”

“I'm sorry.” He gulped back tears. “I didn't want to be there with him. I wanted to be here with you.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes. Of course. I love...” Mark stopped short. Kian felt his heart swing up into his throat, clawing up his chest like a monkey. “I'm sorry.” He said finally. “I'll do better next time.”

“Okay.” Kian nodded. He was relaxing a little now from the earlier frustration, but could feel his pulse racing faster at the thing Mark had almost said. Hadn't meant to say. He let go of Mark's hair, didn't realise he'd stopped stroking it and started gripping it. Started smoothing it back from his face and looked down to see blue eyes looking up at him. “What did he want to talk about?”

“I don't even know.” Mark shook his head. “Just about... like he was asking me what I thought about Kerry and that. Started asking me questions about when I was going to get a girlfriend. It was weird.” Fucking Bryan. He was fishing, Kian knew already, wasn't content to sit back and let the topic of Mark's sexuality go. He was an idiot, Bryan, but he wasn't stupid. “Do you think he thinks I'm gay?”

“Do you think so?”

“I don't know.” Mark shrugged. “Has he said anything to you?”

“It's come up.” Kian hedged. He didn't want to say this outright, have Mark thinking they were all talking behind his back or something. Mark stiffened against him. “I don't think any of them would mind if you were, to be honest.” He consoled. “But you know what Bryan's like. He has to know everything about everyone.”

“I'm not ready to talk about it yet.”

“So don't.” Kian shrugged. “It's your life.” Mark nodded. “Now get into bed and we'll get some sleep.” Mark nodded again, pulling away and standing up. He began to strip off until he was down to his t-shirt and boxers. Kian did the same, sliding into cool, clean sheets once he was done. Mark climbed in alongside him.

Kian put a hand on his back, felt a slightly stubbly face press into his chest, an arm come around his waist.

“Night Kian. Sorry.”

Kian rubbed his back until he fell asleep.

 

*

 

“Oh... fucking hell.” Kian hissed, his head tipping back into the pillow. He'd ended up here somehow, with a hand around his dick and a tongue in his mouth. Mark was still tucked up to his side, his hips moving slightly as he ground himself into Kian's thigh, his hand like torture. “Fucking hell.” He said again, closing his eyes and trying to focus. Mark was panting into his mouth, stroking him fast and hard, the fingers of his other curled in Kian's hair.

“Yes.” He heard Mark whisper. Kian dragged him closer, his hand clawing clumsily at a broad back, fisting in the material of his t-shirt. “Oh god. God I want to make you come.”

“Do it.” Kian groaned, capturing his mouth again. He'd just woken up with a bit of morning wood, hadn't meant to do anything about it, and then Mark had woken, looked at him with those big fucking eyes, asked Kian if he could, and...

He felt Mark whimper against him, hard on his thigh, hips moving harder now as he stroked Kian. There was a dick against his leg, albeit covered in boxer shorts, but Kian couldn't spare a thought for that now, not when...

“Ah...” He bit his lip to hold back the cry. Mark groaned, sucking Kian's lip out from under his teeth, biting down on it himself. It was still there, clenched between Mark's teeth, when he came.

He arched hard, felt the sheets ruck up when his heels dug into them. Mark was making pleased, gorgeous sounds against his mouth while Kian spilled over his hand, not able to catch a breath. Mark moaned, his lips forcing over Kian's, his tongue plunging deep, then there was wetness against his thigh and Mark was letting out a low, tortured whine.

“Jesus.” Mark gasped, nuzzling into his throat a few minutes later, once Kian had figured out how to see in a straight line again. “You're so fucking hot.”

Kian wished he could say something back. Something about how he was attracted to Mark. But he didn't know if he was. The handjob had been pretty fucking fantastic, for sure, but he was sort of glad Mark had come in his boxers, didn't know if he was quite okay with jerking him off. It was a bit too much. A bit like being something he didn't think he was.

Not that he was complaining.

“So good.” He said in the end, just for something that was true. Mark made a pleased sigh, his fingers still swirling through the cum collected on Kian's stomach. It was a little obscene, but Kian was willing to go with it, even if he could feel a bit of stickiness on his leg.

“It was okay?”

“It was...” Kian laughed, unable to help himself. Looked down to see a sweet, anxious face peering up at him. “You're good at that.”

“Have my own practice kit at home.” Mark smirked, making Kian laugh again. “Travels with me and all.”

“You practice much?”

Mark shrugged. “Depends. A lot of the time I'm not in the mood, if it's because of the drugs or because I'm just... down. You know. And then sometimes I just want to fuck _everything_.”

“And right now?”

“Just feel normal. How often do you...?”

“Ehm...” Kian thought. Shrugged. “Dunno. Normal amount, whatever that is. Once or twice a week. Sometimes more. Sometimes not for ages if I don't think of it or don't have time. Less, if I'm getting a shag somewhere.” Though even that had been awhile. The last time he could remember was before they'd recorded with Mariah Carey, some girl at a record company party. It hadn't meant anything. He'd just gone back to hers, had a bit of a shag. He'd almost forgotten about it, it had been so basically unmemorable. Not bad, just nothing all that special.

“Want me to do it for you?”

“You just did.”

“No, but like...” Mark nuzzled into his neck. “You could tell me to. Like, if you want. If you told me to do it, I would.” He looked up again. “Whenever you like. You don't have to return the favour or whatever.”

“You'll have a right arm like a tree if you're doing both of us.”

“That's okay.” He pursed his lips. “You don't have to say anything right now. Just... offer's open.”

“Thanks.” Kian sighed. Didn't know what to say after that. He ran his hand through sweaty hair, felt the cum on his belly start to become tacky, Mark's fingers still drawing shapes in it. “You want first shower?”

 

*

 

“Bob the Builder...”

“CAN WE FIX IT?”

“Bob the Builder...”

“YES WE CAN!” Shane and Kian chorused. They were singing along to the radio on the way to Sligo, Shane driving. Mark was in the front seat, Kian behind Shane. He could see Mark, and every time the younger boy turned to look at him he felt something small and fluttery move inside his chest.

“Ah, fecking Bob.” Shane shook his head as the song came to a close. Mark leaned over to turn the radio down a bit. “I'm glad he got number one. Worked really hard for it, he did.”

“All those live performances and long hours spent promoting it...” Mark added. “Must've been run off his feet.”

“Dunno how he has the energy, having to do that TV show as well.” Shane laughed. Kian grinned, leaning forward and resting his arm on the back of Shane's seat. It drew him almost level with Mark. The younger boy's gaze flickered over, his head already turned to talk to Shane, and Kian was dropped a quick wink. He returned it, feeling his heart flutter again. “Could've been eight in a row, lads.”

“Yeah, but at least the pressure's off a bit.” Mark pointed out. “Nobody's going to expect another record now, so we can sit back and chill.”

“What, you mean after the massive world tour thing?” Kian suggested. “Yeah, can't wait to sit back and chill.” Mark rolled his eyes.

“You're such an optimist. It's Christmas! We just won Record of the Year! Not to mention, we still got number two. If that had happened on our first single, we would have been hysterical!”

“I assume you mean Swear It Again, and not Together Girl Forever?” Kian asked.

“That was a cracking song.” Shane laughed. “Would have gone number one as well, if we'd re-recorded it as Westlife.”

“Number one on the rubbish pile.” Kian retorted. “I can't believe you two wrote that.”

“Me either.” Mark chuckled. “God, I was so fucking _young_.”

“It was two years ago!” Shane exclaimed.

“I'm not saying it wasn't good at the time.” Mark argued. “But in hindsight...”

“I wrote it for Gillian. You really gonna take the piss?”

“I don't care if you wrote it for the Queen. It doesn't make it a good song.”

“It's a perfectly fine song. At least it didn't have a rap in it.”

“Everlasting Love was a great song!”

“It was a fucking atrocious song.” Kian butted in. Mark gave him a look that would have cut through steel. “Sorry, but it was. You can do way better.”

“Thanks?” Mark raised an eyebrow. “You're also not terrible sometimes.”

“Oh, cheers.” Kian snorted. He was working on a couple of things with Nicky, actually. Neither of them had been able to sleep on the tour bus a few weeks before and Kian had ended up sitting upstairs with his guitar, having a muck around with some lyrics Nicky had been sketching out. They didn't know if they were going to do something with them, but it was kind of cool taking some control. Plus they could actually sing lead and nobody could say anything about it.

“I'm working on some stuff with Bryan.” Shane announced. Kian looked up in surprise.

“Are you?”

“Yeah, just having a play. Think we might have at least two quality ones. Maybe three.”

“That's mad, Shane.” Mark grinned. “Can we hear any of it yet?”

“Not yet. Maybe soon.” He shook his head. “They probably won't let us put it on the album anyway.”

“B-side maybe?” Kian suggested. “I've been working on some stuff with Nicky.”

“He said.” Shane nodded. Mark looked over, surprise clear on his face.

“You didn't say.”

“It's not anything yet. We're just mucking about.” He saw Mark's lips purse, was a little delighted to see the slight jealousy in his eyes. At least he wasn't the only one. And there was a whole can of worms he didn't want to get into.

It had only been the last few weeks, since Mark had been all over Bryan at the Coast to Coast tour, since that night in the hotel room when Mark had been almost twenty minutes late upstairs. It felt stupid now, but it got to him. Made worse by the constant snogging that appeared to be going on lately. It was all hands-above-the-neck stuff, friendly and comforting more than anything, but it was nice. Probably laden with more heat than he'd like to admit to himself. Mark was a class kisser, too.

They made it to Sligo. Mark got dropped off first, as he was further out of town. Kian climbed into the front seat to take his place after they unloaded the presents and suitcase, and reached out to fiddle with the radio, settled on a local station.

“So, how's Mark?” Shane said, before they were even out of sight of his house. Kian sighed, looking out the window.

“He's fine. You just saw him.”

“Right.” Shane nodded. “But, you know. You live with him. And after a couple of months ago when you both stormed out on rehearsals...”

“He's fine.” Kian assured him. “We've got a handle on it, and he's been okay.”

“He seems happier.” Kian felt a warm blush steal through him at that thought. Caught Shane looking at him, shooting glances while he tried to watch the road. “Doesn't do his freakout thing as much anymore. What's that about?”

“Just growing up, maybe.” Kian hedged. “We talked about some things. I don't think he'd want me telling you about it.”

“Okay. But like... I feel like you two are off in your own little world, you know? Like you're always together, and you seem to tell each other everything...” Shane sighed. “You wanna do something one day? Just the two of us? I feel like I haven't seen you properly in ages."

“You're seeing me now.” Kian said. “We'll be crammed on the tourbus together for the next few months anyway. And in hotels.”

“Yeah, but you always room with Mark and...” Shane shook his head. “Look, forget it. Just thought you might want to hang out.”

“I do.” Kian leaned over, putting his hand on Shane's shoulder. “Sorry. I didn't mean to sound...”

“It's fine. Forget it.” Shane reached out, turned the radio up a little bit. Kian sat back in his seat, staring through the window as the town centre started to come up around them. He glanced over, trying to figure out the best thing to say. They were only a minute or so from his house now, and he didn't want to leave the car with this conversation the way it was.

“Why don't we go to the pub next Friday? I could use a pint, go see the lads and that?”

“You want to call Mark?”

Yes.

“No, it's fine. He'll want to spend time with his family.” Kian attempted an encouraging smile. “You're right. We haven't been spending enough time together.”

“It's really fine...”

“It's not.” They pulled up in front of Kian's house. He leaned over, gave Shane a hug. “Merry Christmas, yeah?” Felt the hug get returned, after a moment. “Now open the back so I can get all my shit out.”


	15. Chapter 15

**When the fog has finally lifted from my cold and tired brow**

**No I will not leave you crying, no I will not let you down**

 

“Hey Kiddo.” Kian crouched down next to the boy curled up on the dressing room floor, ran fingers gently down his cheek. He felt Mark turn into it a moment and smiled. “How you doing?”

“Freaking out.” Mark bit his lip, looking at the tiles in front of him. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. I am a bit too.” He ran his fingers down the length of Mark's nose, knowing it tended to calm him a bit. “We'll be fine once we get out there, though. You remember the dance moves?”  
  
“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “I'm not very good.”  
  
“You're fantastic.” Kian assured him. “All those Newcastle girls are here to hear you sing. They can't wait to see you, even if you do have dodgy hair.”

Mark frowned, reaching up to run his hand over the close-cut hair that had slowly been growing back since it had been shaved the week before. It wasn't Kian's favourite thing, made him look sort of younger and more awkward.

“Sorry. I should have asked before I let them do it.”

“Nothing we can do about it now.” Kian shrugged. “You still look gorgeous, if it helps.”

“Yeah, because you're the expert?” Mark smirked. “You don't bloody fancy me, anyway.”

“No, but those girls do.” Kian leaned in to peck his nose. “And who says I don't fancy you?”

“You. You're not gay.”

“So?” Kian smiled, biting gently on the end of his nose until he felt Mark giggle. “Just because I don't like lads, it doesn't mean I don't like you.”

“Are you really going out with that dancer?”

“Are you really going out with the girl from the support act?” Kian shot back. Mark snorted, shaking his head. “She's a nice girl.” He shrugged. “I might shag her.”

“Might you?”

“Maybe. Seems like a good enough sort. Not usually that into blondes, but she's got great legs.”

“If she'll let you.”

Kian smirked, neglected to mention the fact that he'd already slept with her twice. The first time had been nice enough. The second time had been to see if it held up to the first time. It did. She was very... flexible. A bit filthy too. Not in any overly terrifying way, but she was a bit of an initiator when it came to things Kian usually had to ask for. She'd been sucking him off within about ten minutes of sitting down on her sofa, so that had been fairly nice. She was a good laugh, as well. Kian was even half thinking about dating her, just to see how it would go. Wasn't sure if it was a good idea if they had to spend the next four months together, in case things went sour.

“Stand up.” He said. Mark looked at him for a moment, and then did, his legs a little wobbly. “Right, now I've forgotten the dance to No No, so you're going to have to remind me. Could be embarrassing if I got out there and cocked it up on the first night of the tour.”

He began to step through it, but about halfway in Mark stopped him, putting a hand on his arm.

“No, it's...” He stepped into line, turning right, swinging his arm slightly, and then back to the front.

Kian nodded gratefully, kept stepping, felt Mark fall in beside him. They stepped through the rest of it, and if Kian made a couple more mistakes and had to be corrected, well, that wasn't his fault. Soon they were finished, and he turned to smile at Mark.

“Cheers. Huge help.”

“I can see what you're doing, you know.”

“What am I doing?”

“Pretending to fuck it up so I'll fix it.” Mark crossed his arms. “Reverse psychology, is it?”

“Not at all. I just know that you know the moves like the back of your hand, so if I'm going to go to someone for help it'd have to be you.” Kian smiled, opening his arms slightly. “Now give me a hug for luck.”

Mark rolled his eyes, stepping in. Kian leaned his head in a broad chest, tugging Mark's white trenchcoat around to envelop both of them. A kiss pressed to his forehead.

“You'll be amazing.” He promised.

 

*

 

It was amazing.

They'd done live stuff before, but there was something about  _ owning _ a stage for an hour and a half, standing in front of fans who were there specifically to see them... It was lunacy. He couldn't fathom it. And when he glanced down from the frame to look at the crowd, he could see Mark, belting out the lyrics right below him, filling the whole room with that insane voice. He'd barely had a chance to breathe through the whole thing, had barely even been aware of the others on the stage. Just knew he was out of breath and could hardly hear himself sing over the solid wall of shrieks around him.

The van ride back to the hotel was mental. Nicky kept bouncing in his seat, Bryan kept cheering loudly, waving his hands above his head as much as the space would allow. Shane kept shaking his head and swearing under his breath. Mark was giggling, necking water as fast as he could. Kian whooped, grabbing his own bottle.

“Bar! Drinks!” Bryan announced. “Fucking party, lads! That was amazing!”

“Oh my god, did you see some of the signs?” Nicky laughed. “They were filthy!”

“I didn't even understand half of 'em.” Shane shook his head, earning himself a patronising look from Mark. “How do those girls get away with writing that stuff?”

“Maybe their mothers helped.” Kian joked, leaning back in his seat. He wanted to get out and sprint the rest of the way to the hotel. “Fucking hell.” He drained the rest of the bottle in a moment, was sure he was sweating it out as he was drinking it.

They made it to the hotel, got changed, and ten minutes later were at the pub down the road, ordering Red Bull and vodka faster than the bartender could pour it. Mark was necking them too, much to Kian's surprise. Either he was being stupid, or he hadn't taken his medication, and Kian couldn't in all honesty say which one it was. It was too hard to read his face, like he normally would. He was too hyper. Was grinning madly at everyone, the nerves from before apparently translated into excitement. And it wasn't like Kian could ask in front everyone.

They lost it until early in the morning. Everyone was there, the dancers, the crew, the girls. Shane and Gillian kept sneaking off to snog, even though it was a bit reckless, but Kian figured it was up to them. Georgina kept squealing and hugging Nicky. Kerry was off with Atomic Kitten, but Bryan was due to catch up with her in Manchester.

Jess came up sooner or later, gave him the eye, and Kian was just drunk and horny enough to decide that it was probably a good idea. They had a perfectly good hotel room up the road, so he stumbled out at about three in the morning, snogged her in the lift, and was inside her about five seconds when Mark came in.

“Erm...” There was a sudden square of light falling from the door across the bed. Kian looked up, caught the familiar silhouette. She swore, yanked the sheet up around herself. “Shit.” The door slammed shut again. She began to laugh, her face a little flushed with drunken embarrassment.

“Whoops.” She giggled, hands over her mouth. “Forgot about your room-mate.”

He thought about going after Mark, he really did, but in some far away part of his mind realised it would probably look suspicious if he went jogging after his mate when he was in the middle of shagging a pretty attractive blonde dancer. He didn't really want to stop anyway, not when she was moaning and arching and pushing the sheets away again, and shit, she was making some pretty excellent noises and had  _ fantastic _ tits.

She was gone when he woke up the next morning. He blinked, disoriented for a second. He was alone, the other bed still made tightly. He had a blinding hangover.

The television was turned off.

He got up slowly, realised it was almost midday. He brushed his teeth, thought maybe it would make him feel like an actual human being. It didn't. He had a shower, and that helped a little bit. He stumbled downstairs, wondering if maybe the others would be at lunch.

He was almost right. Bryan was sat in the bar on his own, having a beer and eating a bowl of potato skins. Kian sank down next to him, reaching out to snag a couple.

Bryan slapped his hand away. “Oi, they're mine.”

“Come on, Bry...” Kian whined, reaching out again. He dodged the hand, managed to nab one by the corner and had it in his mouth before Bryan could stop him. “Thanks mate. Good friend.”

“Apparently, yeah.” Bryan took a sip from his beer. “How's Mark?”

“Dunno. Haven't seen him yet.”

“I know. He's asleep in my room.” Bryan said. Kian nodded. Well, he'd figured Mark would have had to have slept somewhere. “Wanna tell me why he showed up at four in the morning and was shut in my bathroom crying?”

“Shit.” Kian was already standing back up again, but Bryan grabbed his arm, pulled him down. “Fuck off Bryan, I have to go check on him.”

“No, you need to sit the fuck down.” Bryan said quietly, glancing around at the other tables. “What the hell is going on?”

“It's none of your business...”

“It is when he's throwing up in my shower and telling me he's sorry about a thousand times.” Bryan's hand was still on his arm, and squeezing tighter. “What's he sorry for, Kian? Because when I asked if he wanted me to get you – because, you know, you're apparently the only one who can fix his shit – he said he didn't want to interrupt you. I had to get a blanket around him on the bathroom floor. He wouldn't even get up.”

“Fuck.” Kian tried to stand again. He wanted to throw up himself. “Bryan, you need to let me go right now.”

“Good luck. You don't have the key to my room. He's asleep. Let him be.”

Kian shoved him. Mark had been drinking last night, which meant...

He's not  _ asleep _ Bryan, he's...” He shoved again. “I have to get him something from our room okay? Please. This isn't making anything better.” He paused. “Did you put the TV on for him?”

“...no.”

“Jesus.” Kian bit his lip. Bryan was still held tight to his arm, was standing up, towering over him. Kian had the rather distinct feeling he was about to be punched. “Fuck it, come on. But if he freaks out I'm holding you responsible.” That sounded so weak, coming off his own lips. Kian had done this himself. He'd fucking done this.

The ride up in the lift was almost silent, except for the tapping of Bryan's foot. He dashed down the hall, slipped into his room. Mark's medication was where it usually was, tucked in a nondescript plastic bag at the bottom of his suitcase, wrapped in a t-shirt. Paranoid, maybe, but that was Mark all over. He shoved the bottle into the pocket of his cargo shorts, followed Bryan back to his own room.

“Can I have a bit of privacy please?” Bryan just raised an eyebrow. Kian shook his head, knowing it was bloody useless. “Okay, just... don't tell anyone about this, okay? For him, not for me. Please.” He bit his lip, met stormy blue eyes that studied him for a long time. Bryan nodded, finally, pushing his keycard into the lock.

Kian didn't know how to start talking to the dejected lump under the blankets, so he started simple.

“Hey.”

“He's asleep.” Bryan whispered.

“Hey.” Mark said quietly. Kian raised an eyebrow, wishing he didn't feel so smug. “Sorry.”

“Don't be.” Kian headed over to the bed, shaking off the hand on his shoulder. Mark looked up from the cocoon of the blankets, his eyes bright with tears. Kian knelt down, running fingers through close-cropped hair. “How long you been off them?”

“Couple of days.” He swallowed. “Wanted my head clear for the concert.”

“You want to take one now?”

“Yes please.” He bit his lip. “I'm sorry about last night.”

“No, I am. I should've told you.”

“Is it still happening?”

“I'm not sure. Bryan, could you grab us a glass of water please?” The bigger boy headed into the bathroom. Kian didn't watch him go, was too focused on Mark. “Would you be upset if it was?”

Mark hesitated, his eyes shifting while he searched Kian's face.

“I want you to be happy. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to think about...”

“I always think about you.” Kian laughed, nudging Mark's shoulder lightly. “But this...” He gestured between the two of them. “We're not a couple. Do you think we are?”

“No.” Mark looked away. “I need you, though. Need you to tell me what to do. You...” He breathed out slowly. “You don't do it as much any more. Not since we started...” He bit his lip, glancing over Kian's shoulder. Bryan's presence was tangible behind him, and Kian turned, accepting the glass of water. “Do you not want to?”

“I thought you were feeling better. I'm sorry.” Kian stroked his cheek. “I wanted to lay off a bit. It was getting...” Out of control. He'd begun to not like himself very much. Realised he was getting weirdly possessive and controlling about the whole thing, felt even worse when he was starting to get semi-regular handjobs. Felt a bit like he was taking advantage. Needed to step back in case he went too far. “Sit up.” He instructed. Mark nodded, shuffling up. He was still in his clothes from the night before. “How many?” He reached into his pocket.

“Whole one.”

Kian nodded, unscrewing the childlock. He reached in, pinching one in thumb and forefinger and lifting it out.

“Now, before I give it to you...” He held it, making sure Mark could see it. He was trembling still, his eyes muddy and too bright. “Name three movies that start with the letter A.”

“Um...” Mark closed his eyes, licked his lips slightly. Kian didn't bother looking at Bryan, knew his expression probably wouldn't make this any easier. “Alien. Um... American Pie.” His eyes squeezed tighter for a moment. “Alice in Wonderland.” He huffed out a breath, relaxing slightly, then opened his eyes. “Was that okay?”

“Very good.” Kian nodded. He pressed the glass into Mark's hand, held out the tablet. Mark took it quickly, looking determinedly away from Bryan. “You want to go to sleep?”

“Yes please.” He swallowed, licked dry lips. “Wake me for the concert?”

“Of course.” Kian promised. “You want the TV on?”

“Yes please.” He said again. “Kian...” He hesitated, looked back up. “Will you stay?”

“If you want me to.” Kian nodded. He looked over at Bryan. “Don't get weird about this, okay?” Bryan made a face like it was far too late for that. Kian shrugged, climbing into the bed. He gathered Mark up, tucked him in against his chest. Mark exhaled, his eyes already starting to get unfocused. “Deep breath.” He whispered. Mark breathed in against him. “Let it go.” He did. Kian kissed his cheek. Mark shifted, and then their lips were pressed together. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and ignored it, ending the kiss before it could become too pornographic. Mark sighed against him, already slipping into sleep.

“Sorry.” Mark murmured.

“Don't be. Bryan, can you turn the TV on?” It was on a moment later. “Little lower.” He nodded when the volume was right. “Cheers.”

They sat in silence for a long time. After a while Mark nodded off properly, sinking against Kian's chest. He tugged the blankets up, tucking him in, and sat up a little. Bryan was sitting on the other bed, staring blankly at the TV.

“Right.” He said finally. “Explain.”

“It's a bit more complicated than...” Kian pulled Mark a little closer. He was propped up against the pillows, Mark draped across him. A hand clenched slowly on his hip, sleepy and grasping. He ran a hand through Mark's hair, settling him. “He's fine. Most of the time he's fine. If he gets his medication, he's got no problems.”

“What's wrong with him?”

“Nothing.” Kian shook his head. “Anxiety. Depression. It's...” He stared at the TV, trying to figure out how to explain it. “He just swings, sometimes. Gets overwhelmed, or down. Can't cope. If I can keep him focused, talk him through it... he's usually okay.”

“What happened this time? Because I've never seen anyone like that. Is that...?”

“It's not normal, no.” He looked down at troubled, closed eyelids. “I hate it when he's like this. He just draws into himself, falls apart. So I just do my best. He didn't want me to know. Doesn't want anyone to. But I found out, so...” He shrugged. “We've gotten it mostly figured out. I can read him okay, and I step in a bit before he gets funny. It's hard to know which way he'll go with it. Sometimes he gets really tense, starts rocking and shaking and freaking out, and other times you just can't get him out of bed.”

“Fucking hell.” Kian looked over. Bryan was biting his lip. “Can I do anything?”

“No.” Kian felt something thick and jealous blaze inside himself. It was irrational, but he didn't want Bryan to help. This was his thing. Mark was his. “If you see him get twitchy, tell me. I'll take care of it. Or if you see him drinking. Means he's off his meds. And if I have to make excuses and get him out of the room or if he's late, just... distract everyone. Yeah? Louis' on his back about being unreliable, and it just makes it worse.”

“Is he? I'm surprised he has time, since he's always yelling at me.”

“Well, you do act like a bit of a dickhead.” Kian joked, smiling at him. Bryan laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, well, he's about to get worse.”

“Why's that?”

Bryan sighed. Bit his lip. “I'll keep your secret if you keep mine.”

“Deal.”

Bryan stared back at the TV.

“Kerry's pregnant.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Falling slowly, eyes that know me, and I can't go back**

**Moods that take me and erase me, now I'm painted black**

 

“I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. Really.” Kian shrugged. He wasn't that cut up about it. He and Jess had never been all that serious, and he really hadn't been that bothered by the end. She wanted him to spend all his time with her, and he couldn't do that. Not really.

It had been hard, at the end, to explain where he was going. Why he would suddenly walk out of dinners or leave as soon as they were done having sex. Mark had been fine, which was the stupid part about it. He hadn't needed the help. They'd sunk back into a routine again, Kian telling Mark what to do, and Mark doing it, and it had made things a lot easier. This was their dynamic, and it was comfortable, if a bit harder to hide on the tour bus. They'd had to settle for little things. Telling Mark to not talk for five minutes, which was always a fun one, watching Shane wander over and try to start a conversation and Mark try not to giggle out loud while he nodded understandingly and tried not to let on. Getting him to do a lap of the tour bus, but making him walk backwards, or sideways. And Kian would watch, get that questioning smile, and give him an approving nod back.

And then in the hotel rooms when they were doing a few nights in a row, telling Mark to recite the alphabet backwards. Telling him to choose the salt and vinegar crisps over the plain ones. Telling him to wear the red jacket instead of the blue.

Telling Mark to kiss him.

They were upstairs on the bus now, somewhere between Oslo and Stockholm. Everyone was asleep downstairs, and he hadn't been able to sleep. Had gotten up and gone upstairs to play with the song he was working on with Shane and Bryan. It was a nice one, sort of slow and heartfelt. Bryan was being a big softie lately, now that he knew he was becoming a dad, and it was starting to show in his writing. Kian felt a bit of a fraud writing it, not having someone he wanted to grow old with, but he liked the melody, wanted to work on fleshing it out a bit.

Then Mark had come upstairs looking for him and the guitar had been pretty quickly forgotten.

“I feel a bit guilty snogging you when you just broke up with your girlfriend.”

“You were snogging me while I was with my girlfriend.” Kian pointed out. “Didn't seem to stop you.”

“I was...” Mark looked down, blushing a little. “You always tasted a bit like her. I kind of wanted it gone.”

“Oh...” Kian smiled fondly. “Well, if it's any consolation, you're a better kisser.”

“Well, obviously.” Mark drawled. He looked up shyly. “Did you like fucking her?”

“Yeah, it was nice.” Kian shrugged. “You know. She was pretty enthusiastic about the whole thing.”

“Am I not enthusiastic enough?”

“You're not my girlfriend.” Kian pointed out. Mark smirked, leaning into him. Their lips connected again, fingers twisting into his hair. Mark's hair was starting to grow back now, had been long enough that he didn't look completely ridiculous in the video for Uptown Girl. The tour was more than half over now. Kian thought he'd get sick of it by now, but it was still amazing. Was still madder and crazier every night. Mark had been on fire, had been getting some of the filthiest signs he'd ever seen. His voice had been gorgeous, and he'd relaxed out a bit, seen that he didn't have to be perfect. And when Shane was forgetting the lyrics half the time, it was probably a comfort.

“You taste good.” Mark murmured. Kian mumbled something that was probably agreement, sinking his tongue into a warm, wet haven. Heard a soft groan, felt a hand move up his thigh. “Wanna touch you.”

“Everyone's downstairs.” He whispered. Mark moaned in disappointment, his tongue lapping up Kian's throat. He was getting bolder now. Kian still wasn't willing to go past this, not really, but there was something about the teeth scraping over his ear that was making him shudder helplessly, hardening when fingers trailed over his belt.

“They're asleep.” Mark breathed. “I want you.”

“I want you too.” Kian mumbled, half-hoping Mark wouldn't hear him. “When we get to the hotel.”

“That's ages away.” Fingers slid up stomach, pushing under his shirt. “I'll do anything she did. Tell me to and I will.”

“Fuck.” Kian closed his eyes, biting his lip when he felt fingers play at his nipples. “You've got slightly different equipment.” He joked. Mark bit his shoulder, growling low in his throat.

“I'll suck you.” Mark said, his lip still pressed to Kian's shoulder. “Let me suck you.”

“Fuck.” Kian said again. “You don't have to.” He didn't really know if he wanted him to. Didn't know if that was way too much like giving in to this.

“Tell me to.” Mark was panting against his ear, and when Kian looked down he realised how hard Mark was. He felt himself sicken a little at the sight, wishing he hadn't felt himself harden a little more. “Make me do it. Fuck my mouth.” He whimpered, his hand dropping to his own lap. “Oh god, Ki... I'm gonna come in my pants.”

“Jesus.” Kian bit his lip, felt himself rock back at the words being gasped against his neck. “You serious?”

“Yeah.” Mark closed his eyes, shivering. “Fuck...” He pressed his own hand down, grinding against it through his pyjama bottoms. “Tell me what to do.”

“Stop.” Kian said. Mark did, shuddering to a halt. He pulled his hand away from Kian's chest, putting it on his own thigh. He opened his eyes. They were dark. “How close are you?”

“Gonna come in a minute.” He whimpered. “Don't touch me or I'll be gone.” His hands were clenching on his knees. “Oh...” He turned his eyes up the ceiling like a prayer. “Fuck. Jesus.” He gulped.

“Breathe.” Kian instructed. “Can you move?”

“No. Ah...” He closed his eyes again, his hands grasping tighter at his knees. “Do something. I don't want to come.”

“Why not?”

“Because... because... Oh god. Because I want to come when you do. I don't want to...” He shook his head. Kian felt his tongue go dry. “I want you to make me come. I don't want to do it without you telling me to.”

“I...” Kian didn't know what to do. He stood up, backed away a little bit. Saw Mark's eyes squeeze shut. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“For this.” He drew his hand back.

The crack his palm made on Mark's face was sudden, loud in the hushed silence of the bus, echoed only by Mark's soft yelp. It stung, went all the way up his arm, even though he didn't think he did it that hard.

Mark looked up at him, tears springing to his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine.” He licked his lip. A tiny spot of blood was staining the corner of his mouth. “Do it again.”

“What?”

“Do it again.” Mark leaned back a little, bracing himself. Kian stared at him for a moment, not sure what to do. Hating the fact that the heat in his palm was draining slowly down to his cock, that the handprint on his friend's face was making him feel such... ownership... that it was a little frightening.

“I...” He swallowed, lifting his hand. Watched Mark close his eyes. Saw the flash of a silver chain hiding beneath Mark's t-shirt. He reached forward, hooked his finger through it for a moment, saw Mark shiver, his lips part slightly. Then he let go, and...

“Ngh!” It was a grunt. Kian shook his hand, feeling it sting, elbow take the impact. Mark's hand was back in his lap, squeezing. Kian's mouth was dry. He bent down, pulled Mark into a hug. Wanted to stop feeling such a complete arsehole. Wanted to ignore the fact that he was so fucking hard there was no way Mark couldn't have seen it, tenting his pyjama bottoms like that.

“I'm sorry.” Kian whispered. Mark shook his head.

“Don't be.” He swallowed against Kian's ear. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Kian nodded. “Do you still want to suck me off?”

“More than anything.” Mark chuckled. His hand was still moving slowly in his lap. Kian reached down to bat it away, heard the soft, aborted whine when he did.

“Wait until we get to the hotel.” Kian ordered. “Then you can jerk yourself off while you blow me.” Mark shuddered, his lips finding Kian's ear.

“That sounds fantastic.” He murmured. Kian shivered, running a hand down his back, feeling the sweat staining the shirt. “What do you want to do until then?”

 

*

 

They made it to the hotel at around seven that morning. They'd barely slept, had hung around the upstairs of the bus trying to calm themselves down, distracting themselves by playing a little music, watching TV. Then when they were finally ready to go to bed, Nicky woke up and wanted to do a little work on When You Come Around. So they had, Mark nodding approvingly and tapping his feet before going downstairs to crash out for an hour.

Shane insisted they all go to breakfast, which was fine for him with his massive six hours sleep, but they obliged, sitting around the table eating ham croissants and scrambled eggs.

Mark finished quickly, pushed his plate away and announced he was going upstairs to sleep. The red marks on his face had disappeared fairly quickly – Kian hadn't hit him that hard – but there was a little scab starting to form in the corner of his mouth. Bryan asked if he had the herp. Mark rolled his eyes.

Mark headed away from the table, but just for a moment he paused, turned around, hooked his fingers into his collar and twitched the material aside, revealing a silver chain. He licked his lips, raised an eyebrow, and then sauntered off. Kian gripped his fork a little tighter, trying to stop his jaw from falling into his eggs.

He made his excuses a few minutes later, sat there listening to Bryan torturously talk about Kerry's ultrasound. Louis had taken it okay, surprisingly. It wasn't like there was anything he could do, so in the end he'd congratulated Bryan. It was kind of cool, actually. Shane and Nicky were getting clucky already, though Kian still wasn't sure if this whole thing wasn't a monumentally stupid idea. It had been an accident, of course, but they were both just so _young_. He didn't know how that was supposed to work – would they be bringing the baby on the bus with them? They wouldn't even be getting back from this tour until June, and she was due in September. He could see Bryan getting antsy already, wanting to go home and spend time with her.

“I'm gonna go crash.” He didn't have to affect a yawn, it was already right there. “I don't think I slept a wink last night.” They all nodded vaguely, said they'd see him that night for the gig, and then he was off, walking as quickly as he could without being suspicious.

Mark was sitting on the edge of the bed when he came in, still dressed in a pair of baggy cargo shorts and a black t-shirt. He looked up, a smirk crossing his face when Kian slammed the door behind him.

“How was the rest of your breakfast?”

Kian rolled his eyes, striding forward and grabbing him by the hair, yanking him up and kissing him hard. Mark laughed into his mouth, fingers coming around Kian's waist, thumbs brushing at the bottom of his ribs.

“You fucking tease.” Kian growled. Mark snorted, his hands drifting further around, mouth claiming Kian's again. Then there were hands on his arse, and he was being ground up against something hot and hard and altogether frightening.

“You feel so fucking good.” Mark murmured, and Kian couldn't do anything but give into it, try to ignore that fact he was getting hard, feeling himself rub against a guy like that. But it wasn't a guy. It was Mark. Mark, who did exactly what he was told, who had flushed so fucking prettily when Kian had slapped him. Had taken it and asked for more. Who wanted to be controlled and held and kept and Kian didn't fucking know if that was far too much responsibility. Had just wanted something easy where he could be in charge. He had a sickening feeling that he wasn't, that he'd been led here. That Mark was making him do this, and didn't know if that made it worse or better, because if he was in charge, then that meant he was about to have his dick sucked by a guy on purpose. By Mark.

“On your knees.” Kian managed. Mark moaned, was already dropping. He landed heavily, grappling at Kian's jeans. Kian put a hand on his head, stopping him. “Slower.”

“Yeah.” He stopped, ran his hands up Kian's thighs, began to slowly slide buttons through holes. The zip lowered, so slow, and Kian bit his lip when he felt the pressure abate, Mark's fingers pulling him out. He was half-hard, a little cool in the air-conditioned room. Hot, when Mark leaned forward, hesitantly kissing the tip. Kian looked down, felt his knees buckle a little at the sight of big, innocent eyes. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “Just... never done this before.”

“No, me either.” Kian closed his eyes, tried to remember what he liked when girls did it. General wet bobbing was usually the answer, but... “Open.” He ordered. Mark nodded, licking his lips and then parting them, his bottom lip sucking back a little to cover his teeth. Kian groaned, rubbed the head over that sinfully full mouth and felt hot breath caress it, Mark's moan.

And then wet. Jesus. Felt a tongue come out, lips close around it, felt the sweep of hot muscle around him. Then he was pushing forward, watching Mark's eyes fall closed, his tongue pressed against the head, stopping it like a wall when it went too deep. He pulled back a little to let him breathe, felt that tongue move against him, then slide back, giving a little more. Kian pressed deeper, his eyes rolling back while his fingers tangled in dark hair.

“Fuck. Mark.” He bit his lip, knowing this wasn't the most skilful blowjob, but not caring. Not when Mark was tilting his head a little, his mouth full of saliva, his fingers wrapping around the base to control the movement a little. He was moving now, getting a slow rhythm going on, his mouth kissing his fingers as Kian thrust gently, trying not to hurt him, too turned on to think about it much. Felt a slight gag, looked back down into hungry eyes that were watching him steadily, studying his reactions. Asking for permission. “Touch yourself.”

Felt that groan go all the way up his spine. Cupped Mark's cheek, thumb stroking over the place where only hours before there had been a handprint. His handprint. Felt the rough damage in the corner of his mouth, knowing this couldn't be helping it heal. Not caring. Mark was undoing his shorts, pulling himself out, and when Kian looked down again he could see it slipping through his grip, his wrist moving fast.

“Christ.” Kian closed his eyes again. He didn't want to look at that. Didn't want to look at Mark's cock and feel... He'd never seen it before, not properly, he realised. Mark always did it through his pants, or snuck off to the shower afterwards to finish off. He'd never even seen Mark naked. Didn't know if he wanted to. Sort of worried that the sight of another guy naked might ruin this whole thing. Sort of worried that it wouldn't.

Mark pulled away for a second, and Kian was about to protest, but then Mark spat into his hand, slicking it with the spit that had been steadily filling his mouth, and then he was back, stroking himself faster, his head bobbing, eyes still looking up for some sort of approval. Hand sliding down, palming over Kian's balls, and then gripping the base again, his mouth opening even wider, cheeks hollowing a little while he sucked. His eyes fell closed, and suddenly his hand was a blur.

“Don't come yet.” Kian ordered. Felt another humming moan travel up his cock. “Oh Jesus, Mark. Wait for me. I'm so fucking close.”

Mark whimpered, his eyes opening again, and Kian looked down. Saw the want. The hunger. The fucking _belonging_. His back arched, moving against the unstoppable pressure of Mark's mouth. Knew it was happening. Knew there was no way he could stop it now.

“Now.” He gasped out. “Oh fuck. Now. Shit.”

He felt Mark take it, felt the slick slide of his mouth filling with cum, then the swallow. Couldn't let go of his hair, tried not to drive too deep, felt Mark gag a little anyway, a tear leaking from his eye. Felt the splash of cum on his feet, warm and wet. Felt Mark's mouth close around him, tight and sucking, dragging his orgasm out of him.

Felt him slide off. Felt his knees give out. Felt his arse hit the carpet.

Heard Mark laugh, softly, contentedly, a little proudly.

Closed his eyes. Felt a head land on his chest, fingers stroking over his hip.

Felt Mark sigh happily and snuggle in.


	17. Chapter 17

**'cause everything that don't make sense about me**

**Makes sense when I'm with you**

 

“I fucking love Germany!” Bryan had gone mental, was spinning through the club like a top. A topless waitress pressed up against Kian for a minute, offered him a cocktail. He took it, trying to figure out if he was supposed to stare or not. Then figured it was his birthday, so he was allowed to have an ogle. Twenty-one. Jesus. He was twenty-one. Had been for a total of two hours. He didn't feel all that different really, though at least he wouldn't have to use Nicky's I.D. when they wanted to get into clubs in America.

Shane and Nicky were leant against a wall, gawking at two girls in wet t-shirts making out in a cage. Mark was over near a low stage, having a giggling conversation with a bloke that looked like he was trying his best not to wear the shirt he had on. It was more holes than fabric.

“Kian!” Shane was waving him over, so Kian dragged his eyes away from Mark and went, registering the guy putting a hand on Mark's arm as he turned away. “Look!” He pointed at the two girls in cage. “Lesbians!”

“No way!” Kian affected a shrill squeak, got a condescending look in return. “Do you think they have a special flute they can call other lesbians with? I bet they've got a secret base around here somewhere.”

Nicky laughed. “They're probably not, anyway. They're probably just...” He trailed off, and they all tilted their heads to watch the brunette slide her hand up the blonde's left breast, give it a squeeze. “Erm, what was I saying?”

“That they're probably not lesbians.” Kian prompted.

“Why the hell would they be doing that, then?” Shane asked.

“Money? Bit of a laugh?” Nicky shrugged. “They're both pretty hot, maybe they just like to have a bit of a snog. Wouldn't be hard, snogging a lass like that.”

“Yeah, but like... I'm not gay, right...” Shane started. “So I wouldn't want to snog a bloke. So why would they want to snog if they're not into each other?”

“Maybe they are.” Kian suggested. “Doesn't mean they're lesbians.”

“Isn't that sort of exactly what it means, though?”

“No, but... I mean, maybe they like blokes the rest of the time, but get a couple of drinks in 'em and off they go. Like, I don't usually like watermelon, but if I'm hungover and it's a really hot day, it sounds like the best idea in the world. You know. Circumstances.”

“Georgina's snogged a girl.” Nicky announced. They all turned to look at him. “What? It was in college. We were at a club and this girl came up and started chatting me up, and I was like 'no thanks, love, I've got a girlfriend' and she said she'd have Georgina too, if I wanted, then she leaned over and kissed her.”

“How was that, then?” Shane asked.

“She said it was alright. Didn't do much for her, and she was a bit surprised, but said it was fine. We had some pretty excellent sex that night, I'll tell you what.” He grinned. “Bit of an adventure, even if didn't mean anything. Felt a bit naughty. You know.”

“Would she do it again?”

“Dunno if I'd like her snogging other people.” Nicky shrugged. “Dunno if she'd be that interested. It was a bit of fun, though.”

“Right, so she didn't like it, so she's not a lesbian.”

“I should hope not.” Nicky laughed. “Look all I'm saying is it's not that simple. Like, I'm straight right? You're straight. Kian's straight. Bryan's straight.” He paused. “And let's say for the hell of it that Mark is too.” Shane laughed, rolling his eyes. “But if I got drunk enough, I'd probably snog a bloke.”

“Really?! Eurgh!” Shane pulled a face. “Why?”

“I'm not saying I'd go out and look for a bloke to snog, just if I was shit-faced and some bloke tried to snog me, I'd probably give it a minute to see how it was.”

Kian laughed. “What if it was alright?”

“Don't know. Don't think it matters. I love Georgina. I'm not walking out on her because I copped a tongue in my mouth.”

“Would you tell her?”

“Probably.” Nicky shrugged. “It's not like I went off and shagged someone. I got snogged against my will and it was okay. She'd know about that anyway. And hell, might do something for her, like last time. Wouldn't say no to that.” A topless waitress came past, and he leaned out, gesturing for a moment. She nodded and bounced away. They all watched her go. “That being said, blokes don't look like _that_.” He looked at Kian. “What about you? Would you snog a lad?”

“Dunno. Haven't really thought about it.” He shrugged, trying to be casual. “Maybe. If he was good-looking.”

“What's the difference, if he's a bloke? Does it matter what he looks like?” Shane asked.

“Yeah, but...” The two girls in the cage were taking a bit of a breather, giggling and rubbing their noses together. One had her top half rucked up, revealing a curvy waist over tiny black shorts. “Like, those two lasses probably aren't lesbians right? But I doubt they'd be having as much fun if one of them was a real minger. Same thing. There's a difference between snogging someone good-looking and someone who looks like your da.”

Nicky nodded. “Yeah, exactly. Like, no sweaty, hairy, fat blokes.”

“No. It'd have to be someone alright.” Kian shrugged. “Like, I'm not saying I'd fancy him, exactly, but it'd definitely make things a bit easier.”

“So you would snog a guy?” Shane asked.

“I wouldn't not snog a guy. I'm not going around looking for blokes to snog. I'm not gay. I'm just saying. Circumstances.” He shrugged. “It's not like I'd be shagging him or anything.” The waitress brought their drinks back, and he turned to accept it, caught a glimpse of Mark over her shoulder. The lad he'd been talking to was gone, and Kian tried to ignore the fact that that made him feel a little better. He was talking to Bryan instead, was laughing at something. Bryan tossed an arm around his shoulder, and they began to head over. Kian lifted his drink, getting a wave back.

“Bryan!” Shane called out. “Would you snog a lad?”

“Er...” Bryan stumbled to a halt in front of them, his arm still around Mark. “I feel like there was a conversation leading up to this that I missed out on.” Mark was glancing questioningly at Kian, who shrugged. “Why are we snogging lads?”

“We're not. Well, I'm not.” Shane rolled his eyes. “Nicky would, and so would Kian, apparently.” Mark raised an eyebrow, and Kian reached up to scratch his hair, using the cover of his hand to drop a quick wink.

“Oh right...” Bryan glanced over at the girls in the cage, nodded in approval, and squashed up next to Shane on the wall so he could watch. “Er... dunno. What's the situation?”

“Any situation!” Shane looked exasperated. Nicky laughed, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Oh, right... No?” Bryan scratched his hair. “Don't think so. Like, if you want to go off and kiss men, that's your business. But no. Probably not.” He was sneaking a look at Mark, who looked like he didn't want to be there. Kian wanted to reach out and pull him into a hug, but considering the conversation they were having it probably wouldn't look good at all.

“They reckon one in five people are a bit gay, though, so it's gotta be one of us.” Nicky joked.

“Mark!” Shane asked. Kian hated him a little in that moment. He was all fucking tact, was Shane. “Would you snog a bloke?”

“Erm...” Mark went a little red. “Dunno.” He mumbled, looking down into his coke. “I reckon if you like someone, it probably doesn't matter if they're a girl or guy, does it?” He glanced at Kian for a moment and his fingers came up, playing with the chain around his neck.

“Yeah, but I wouldn't like a guy in the first place. Like, he could be a really top guy, but I'm not gonna want him... you know.” Shane shrugged, lifting his drink to his mouth.

“Erm... yeah.” Mark bit his lip. “I'm gonna go to the bathroom, yeah? Too much coke. Back in a minute.”

He walked away. Kian watched him go. Nicky punched Shane lightly in the shoulder.

“You feckin' eejit!” Nicky always got extra Irish when he was annoyed. “What you ask him for?”

“I wanted to know!” Shane lifted his hand in defence. “What, we're gonna ask everyone else and not Mark? Doesn't that look more suspicious?”

“Jesus, Shane.” Bryan rolled his eyes. He kept looking at Kian. “Leave the lad alone. He'll say something in his own time. It's none of our business.”

“I'm sorry, just...” Shane bit his lip. “Wouldn't it be easier if he said something? Then we could find him a fella and he doesn't have to mope about all the time looking like he's been kicked. Get him a shag. Be right as rain again.”

“Yeah, because a shag fixes everything.” Bryan retorted. He glanced at Kian again. “Go check on him, Ki. For fuck's sake.”

“I...” Kian swallowed. He hadn't wanted to. Didn't want it to look like he was following Mark to the toilets. Nicky raised an eyebrow, shooing him with the hand not wrapped around a cocktail glass. “Yeah. Okay. Back in a minute.”

 

*

 

He found Mark out in an alleyway beside the toilets, leaning against a brick wall. Kian squashed in beside him, trying not to touch the rubbish skip to his left.

“Sorry about that.”

“It's fine.” Mark shook his head. “Everyone knows, don't they?”

“Who fucking cares?” Kian shrugged. “That's your business, isn't it?” He let his hand slide into Mark's. It was fairly hidden here, between a rubbish skip and a high wooden fence. He wouldn't have even seen Mark had he not been looking. “You're fine the way you are.”

“I'm gay.” Mark said quietly. Kian nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” He squeezed his hand a little tighter. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It's just the first time I've said it out loud.” He bit his lip, looking down at his shoes. “I'm in love with you, Kian.” Kian felt his breath catch, his heart lurch. He'd known it, on some level, had sort of hoped Mark wouldn't say anything, that they could keep going on like this until...

Until.

Until what?

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said.”

“I wish I could...” Kian turned, pulled him into a hug. “I love you. I do. But it's not...” He felt Mark's face rub into his shoulder. “You deserve better. I'm sorry.” He stroked soft hair, felt the beginnings of tears. “I didn't mean for it to go this far.”

“I feel like...” Mark's words were interrupted by his own harsh sob. He took a deep breath, shuddering against Kian. “I feel like everything that's good is you, and I don't know how not to love you. You take care of me...” He shook his head. “I don't want you doing this out of pity.”

“I'm not.” Kian assured him. “I wouldn't.”

“Then _why_?” Mark shoved him away with both hands. Kian felt his back hit the skip. Mark's fists were clenched and he began to pace a little bit. “Fuck... you don't love me. You don't want me. But we have a great time together, and we're always fucking snogging and we talk about shit we don't talk about with anyone else. I feel like I know you better than anyone. I feel like...”

He fisted his hair with both hands, sank down against the fence. “This is a fucking relationship. It's ticked all the fucking boxes. So what's the fucking difference? I do every single fucking thing you ask me to. Because I like doing it. Because I like making you fucking happy, and because it's nice, you know? Because I feel like you own me. Because I see you get jealous sometimes, and because I can see that you _care_. When you tell me to do something, I... I want you so badly it hurts. Okay? It fucking hurts. And when you hit me the other day...” He trailed off, swallowed. “It was the best feeling. I don't...”

“Mark...”

“What do you _want_?” Mark asked. “I'll do it. I'll fucking do it a hundred times over and ask for more. It's _all_ I want to do, but you have to tell me, okay? Because I can't...” He broke off, burying his face in his knees. Kian hesitated, not sure what would make it worse or better. His heart felt thoroughly broken, shattered into the cradle of his ribs and rattling around his insides, cutting into his belly.

“I...” He pushed off the skip, went to crouch next to him. Mark didn't look up. Kian reached over, putting an arm around his shoulders, felt the younger boy try to shrug it off, but held fast anyway. “I'm sorry.”

“I don't need you to be sorry.” Mark whispered. “It doesn't help anything.” Kian felt him tilt slightly into his arm, fed his other arm through the tangle of knees and elbows, find Mark's waist and tugging him close.

“I love you.” Kian breathed. “I wish it was enough.”

“But it's not.” Mark said flatly. “It won't ever be.”

“I don't know.” Kian lifted a hand off Mark's shoulder to stroke hair back from his face, used it to tilt his face, get his forehead close enough to kiss. Closed eyes settled into his neck, leaking tears. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He murmured. Heard a bitter laugh in response. “You liked it when I hit you?”

“I really did.” Mark nodded. “It was like being... I don't know. Put in my place or something. Like when you order me about but... more.” He pressed a kiss to Kian's throat. “Like I was yours, totally, that you could do that to me.” He breathed out slowly, the sobs starting to ebb away. “Sorry. I'm so fucking weird.”

“I liked doing it.” Kian admitted, cupping the back of his head and holding him close. Another kiss was pressed to his adams apple, tiny and damp with tears. “I felt like you were mine. Like I owned you.”

“I am. You do.” Mark laughed, clogged and wet. “Do you want to own me?”  
  
“More than I'd like to admit.” Kian sighed. Fingers clenched on his hip, trailing up under his shirt. Lips mouthed under his chin, and when he looked down Mark was looking up, his eyes filled with a thousand begging questions.

“I got you a birthday present.” Mark smiled shyly. Kian laughed, tugging him in until dark hair rested on his shoulder. He leant back against the wall, kept his arm around Mark's shoulders. Felt a hand mould to his thigh.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I um...” He glanced down at his watch. “I was going to give it to you at midnight, but I couldn't get a moment alone.”

“Well, it's only two hours late.” Kian joked. “What did you get me?”

“I got...” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a little purple drawstring bag. “Look, you don't have to wear it. I'm not even sure I should be giving it to you, not after tonight. So if you don't want it...” He shrugged, his cheeks going pink. “Here. Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks.” It felt light in his hand. He unknotted the drawstring, opened it up.

“Oh.” He pulled it out. A silver chain, almost identical to Mark's except for the tiny silver hands clasping between every third or fourth link, so tiny as to be indistinguishable from the regular ones. He could see them though, see the shape of interlocking fingers. “Mark...”

“You don't have to.” Mark shook his head. “Just... I've got mine and... you know. Sorry. It was a terrible idea.” He reached out, tried to take it back. Kian shook his head, holding it protectively to his chest.

“It's gorgeous.” He opened his hand, looked down at the silver chain. You wouldn't even see the hands unless you were looking closely. “I don't know if...” He looked at Mark. “Let me think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Mark nodded, looking somewhat relieved. “I'm sorry about tonight.”

“No, I am.” Kian tucked it back in the bag, shoved it low in his pocket where it couldn't fall out.

“Lads.” They both looked up. Bryan was stood there in the doorway, his head stuck through. If he was thinking anything, he didn't bother mentioning it. “We're going to another place down the road. You coming?”

Kian glanced at Mark. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. Stood back up. Tugged Kian up as well, pulling him a little off-balance. Kian leaned against him to right himself, smiling. Got a hug. “We're on our way.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Wish I would've known when enough was enough**

**Need something for the pain but the killer is us**

 

“So you've been twenty-one for two weeks.” Mark pointed out. “How's it feel?”  
  
“You can tell me yourself in a few weeks.” Kian laughed. They were tucked up in the hotel room, had a plate of nachos propped between them on the bed. It was a bit like being an old married couple, all snuggled up in the same bed watching TV. It was some game show, but it was all in Arabic and he had no idea what was going on. Someone had just won a washer and dryer, but he really wasn't sure how.

They had a day off before the Beirut show the next night, had gotten in from Germany the night before. Six months ago, Kian couldn't have even said with any certainty which country Beirut was in, but here he was, getting ready to perform to thousands of Lebanese girls.

“Do you feel old?”

“I always feel old.” Kian shrugged. “The tour's knackering. And then when we get back it's into recording and then it's singles, and then it's the album, and then Christmas again.”  
  
“That's seven months away!” Mark exclaimed. “Don't bloody get ahead of yourself.” He laughed, reaching out for another chip, this one heaped with sour cream. “It's getting easier, though. Third time around and all.” He shoved the chip in his mouth, licked off some of the sour cream when it got stuck to his top lip. Kian watched his tongue point to get at the glob of white.

“You've still got...” Kian pointed. Mark lifted up his hand, wiping at his mouth.

“Got it?”

“No, it's right...” He leaned in, sticking his hand out to wipe at Mark's top lip. For a moment he felt Mark's lips purse, kiss his thumb. “Got it.” He announced. Mark slid down further in the bed, putting his arms behind his head.

“We going out today?”

“You want to?”

“Not really.” He glanced over. “We can if you want to.”

“I'm fine here.” Kian yawned, sinking down as well. “Might have a nap in a bit.” He suggested. Mark nodded.

“Sounds good.” He looked over. “Want a blowjob?”

Kian laughed in surprise, looked over at him.

“You're all tact.”

“Subtlety's my middle name.”

“No it's not.”

“No, it's not.” Mark grinned. “Just saying.”

“Any reason?”

“Bored. Horny. Comfortable.” He shrugged. “It's cool if you're not in the mood.”

“Not right now, no.” Kian laughed, reaching over to run a hand through dark hair. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“We aim to please.” Mark sat up properly again, knocked the plate of nachos. It spilled into his lap, tipping guacamole and sour cream everywhere. “Shit!” He swore, hands already trying to shove everything back onto the plate. It was all stuck to his legs, a bit on the sheets, right down the front of a familiar purple shirt, streaked across the big smiley face. Kian started to laugh. His face was priceless. “Sorry. Fuck.” He got up gingerly, looking down at his soiled clothes. “I'll get us another plate.”

“It's fine.” Kian managed through his laughter. “Go get changed. I'll call them.”

“Cheers.” Mark started sidling over to the bathroom, walking bowlegged with his arms out so that it didn't all drip on the floor. Kian lay back, still giggling, then when the door closed he picked up the plate, moving it over to the side table. He inspected it to see if it was salvageable, but there was lint and crap stuck all over the sauce.

He called room service quickly, got another plate sorted. The shower was just going on. He thought about going in, seeing if he could maybe catch a surreptitious eyeful.

They hadn't really... done anything. Not since Kian's birthday when Mark had managed that rather impassioned declaration of love. Of frustration. Kian got it. He felt fucking awful. Was trying to step back a little and get his head in gear, but it was so so hard when they were together all the time. When he wanted to be together all the time.

They were in a relationship, Mark had said. Kian had been turning that over in his head, looking at it a thousand ways to try to make it make sense. He could see what he was saying. They were together all the time, they were physically involved to a certain degree. They knew each other inside out, were always there for each other, even if it was in a way that made no sense to anyone else. It made sense to him, though. It worked. He and Mark worked.

Because apparently they were in a relationship.

He hated the thought that it might only work for him, though. That despite the need and the want and the hurt, Mark was settling for something. Something he thought he deserved, maybe. Or that he thought so little of himself that he thought a one-sided Kian was the best he could get.

But he _wanted_ Mark. Maybe not in the way Mark wanted him, where it was all romantic and going on dates and things, but he wanted him. Wanted to hold him. To hold him down, sometimes. To possess him. It felt wrong, but that was the way they worked. He thought maybe if he saw a guy treating a girl like that it would feel like abuse, but it wasn't that at all. Mark wanted it. Wanted those things from him. Wanted more than he thought he was able to give. He was trying to do it, to think of Mark in a way that was sexual instead of just selfish. To want to look at him and want to do those things to him too. To think about having Mark's dick in his mouth and feel turned on by the idea. Mark turned him on in general, that wasn't a problem, but it was different. It was a bunch of disconnected ideas that had nothing to do with the fact that Mark was a man and more to do with the fact that Mark was his friend. His lover, sort of. His confidant. His responsibility. His possession.

His.

He could hear Mark singing in the shower. Felt so fucking fond of him he couldn't begin to express it. Wanted to go in there and do... something. It all felt so nebulous and indefinable. He liked touching Mark. Liked being touched by Mark. He had a big stupid crush on Mark that he'd pushed aside as something that didn't mean anything outside the dynamic they already had. Still liked girls. Still really liked girls.

But he couldn't make himself fathom the idea of...

What would they do, if they started becoming a thing? If he became what Mark wanted him to be? He thought they'd probably be exclusive, but that was the easy part. He could be exclusive with Mark, quite easily, especially considering his last attempt at a relationship had proved that he thought about the younger boy non-stop, had counted down the moments until he could go see him again. Had told himself that it was checking on him. Making sure he was okay. Was even happier when he was okay and they could just sit together, watch TV, eat a big plate of nachos and laugh at foreign game shows.

He could do that for the rest of his life, he thought. Could live with Mark, wipe up his tears when he was losing it, hold him when he was panicking. Laugh with him when he was up and cry with him when he was down. Keep an eye on him, loving that he knew the tics, the signs, the moments, when Mark wasn't feeling all that. Sit up at three in the morning and play music and go for runs around the block and let Mark chase him. Tell him to do stupid random things. Hold him down. Slap him. Hurt him because it felt so fucking good for both of them. Comfort him. Reassure him. Own him.

He didn't know if he could do the other things. Didn't know if he could set that part of himself aside and be who Mark wanted him to be. Because it would come to that eventually, wouldn't it? When he'd be expected to touch back. Because Mark was worth someone who could do those things for him.

He didn't know if that was him. If trying would be even worse, because then he might fail and lose Mark forever.

He couldn't do that.

He didn't fucking _know_.

The shower was still running so he bent over, fishing in his carry-on for something. He wouldn't put it in his suitcase, in case it got lost. Wasn't ready to wear it yet, didn't want to give Mark false hope. Felt awful about not wearing it when Mark seemed to wear his almost every day now. Felt like he was letting him down every time he didn't.

The little hands were still there, clasped together. He studied one pair, ran his thumb over the slight bumps of the fingers. Felt it, too light and fragile in his hand.

The shower shut off. He pushed it back into the drawstring bag, tucked it into the side pocket. The door to the bathroom opened a moment later, billowing steam.

He waved to disperse the white fog, squinting and catching a glimpse of a towel, a baggy black t-shirt. Mark had dressed already, sort of. Kian watched him bend over and grab a pair of clean shorts from his luggage and head back to the bathroom. The door closed, and opened again a moment again. Kian nodded at the fully-dressed form, watched bare feet pad across the carpet.

Mark sat back down, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. Kian leaned over and kissed him. Just chastely. Just because. Mark smiled back.

The nachos came a minute later. This lot were more lucky than the first. They made it through about half of them before Mark pushed them away. Kian moved them over to the table, climbed back onto the bed. He snuggled into Mark's shoulder, felt arms wrap around him.

Mark yawned, wriggling comfortably. “A nap, you said?”

“I did.” Kian nodded, leaning back into arms that folded over his chest.

“Sounds grand.” He nuzzled the back of Kian's head. “Race you.”

“First one to dreamland?”

“That's the one.” He sank down in bed, tugging Kian with him. Kian rolled into his chest, felt strong arms resettle on his back. “Night Ki. Love you.”

“Night Marky.” He murmured, breathing in his friend's scent. “Love you too.”

 

*

 

When he woke, Mark was having a nightmare.

He wasn't thrashing or moaning or anything. Just holding very still, his jaw clenched tight and eyebrows knitted in. He had rolled onto his back, and it was only that which had woken Kian as he'd fallen out of the comfortable embrace they'd both been settled into.

He moved closer, pressing himself to Mark's side. Felt the tension under the skin, the tremble in his hands. He reached up, brushing his thumb soothingly over Mark's forehead, felt sweat collect on it. Kissed his cheek, began to stroke his arm, trying to pull him out of it without startling him awake.

“Shhh...” He murmured, running his hand down Mark's chest. “It's okay. I'm here.” There was a low whine, and Mark started to turn away. Kian held him, turning him back the other way. Wrapped him up tight, holding him to his chest. “Everything's okay, love.” He felt Mark sob, the shake. “I've got you.”

He felt Mark come awake, felt the start of movement against his chest. Then arms closed around his waist while the boy burst into tears, sobbing into his chest.

“I've got you.” He said again. “It's all okay.”

Mark's crying slowed after a minute or two, and then he lay still, head pillowed in Kian's chest.

“Sorry.”

“I hate it when you say that.” Kian scolded gently. “Never be sorry.”

“I am, though.”

“You shouldn't be.” Kian kissed his hair. “You're amazing. There's nothing wrong with you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Mark huffed disbelievingly, his face a little red with tears and embarrassment. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't.” Kian fibbed. “You want a glass of water or anything?”

“No.” He shook his head, snuggling into Kian's chest. “I'm fine.” Short, soft hair slid through Kian's fingers as he stroked it, loving the feeling as much as ever, feeling like he was comforting himself more than Mark. “S'nice."

“Is.” Kian agreed, sliding his hand down the back of Mark's neck and up again, raking the hair forwards. “You're so cute.” He felt Mark sigh happily, nuzzle into his chest. “You're totally perfect.”

“You're a bad liar.”

“I'm definitely something.” Kian agreed, kissing his hair. “I love you.”

“How?”

“I don't know. I'm working on it.” He kissed his hair again. “I really really want to love you like that.”

“But?”

“I don't know. I'm working on it.” He repeated. “You want some more nachos?”

“No thanks.” Mark yawned. “Want to lay here all wrapped up in you.”

“I'd like that.”

“Cool.” He yawned again. “Shit, I need more sleep.”

“Getting old.” Kian squeezed him lightly. “You'll be an old man like the rest of us, soon.”

“Twenty-one. I know.” Mark snorted. “This really wasn't where I saw myself being when I was twenty-one, you know? Figured I'd be at university or something, studying to teach. Doing karaoke on the weekends maybe. Get a real job. Never see you lot again.”

“What are you talking about? This is a real job.” He joked. “And what do you mean never see us again?”

“Just... you know. We'd all drift away after high school. It's fine. I wasn't into you then.”

“You didn't fancy me?”  
  
“Not really, no.” Mark smirked. “You were a bit of a dickhead.”

“And you were a weird, fat swot who never showed up to school.” Kian shot back. “But I like you anyway.”

“Oh. Cheers. I like you too.” Mark snorted. He looked up. “Kian?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss'd be fantastic about now.”

“Would it?”

“Stop fucking about.” Mark rolled his eyes. Kian laughed, leaning down to press their lips together. It was nice. Soft and slow. Mark made a quiet, pleased noise, his fingers curving to Kian's jaw, shuffled up a little to get a little more connection. A thigh came over to capture his hip, a foot stroking his calf, and Kian let it deepen, felt Mark's chest press to his, their groins come into alignment. He could still smell salty tears on Mark's cheeks, feel the slight trembling in his lip. Then he moaned softly, his tongue pushing into Kian's mouth, and Kian couldn't help but return it, felt teeth scrape at his lower lip.

“Gorgeous.” He muttered, felt Mark rub against him, twisting slightly.

“Want you.” Mark whispered. “Want you to hold me down and have me.”

“Fuck...” Kian closed his eyes, not sure how he felt about that. “Can we just do this for a bit?”  
  
“If that's what you want.” Mark shrugged, pulling back a little bit so they didn't have quite so much connection. It was self-preservation, probably, especially with the stiffness Kian could feel against his thigh. “Anything you want.” He breathed, leaning in again. Kian groaned, felt fingers slide up his back. “Tell me and it's yours.”

“I...” He pushed away. Extricated himself from clutching hands and soft, exquisite lips. Mark looked at him in confusion. “Sorry. I can't.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Not you. I'm not...” He shook his head, sitting up on the edge of the bed, Mark to his back. Felt a hand touch his shoulder, shrugged it away.

“It's fine.” Mark soothed. “Don't worry. We don't have to...”  
  
“But we do!” Kian declared, running his fingers through his own hair and trying to focus. “We do have to, and it's not fine. I can't do this to you. I can't fucking take everything and not give something back. It's not fair to you.”

“It's fine. I don't mind.”

“That's the worst fucking part!” He shook his head. “It shouldn't be. You shouldn't have to not mind because I can't give you what you fucking well deserve! It isn't enough. It shouldn't have to be enough.”

“Ki...”

“Mark...” The hand touched his shoulder again, and he allowed it this time. “We have to stop doing this. I can be there for you. I can. But I can't...” He felt tears swell in his eyes, forced there by the lump in his throat. “I... maybe you should room with Bryan for a bit. Just for a bit and then...”

“I don't want to room with Bryan.”

“And I can't...” He shook his head. “We can't do this any more. I can't do this to you.”

“Oh, so you get to decide, do you?”

“Isn't that what I'm for?” Kian shot back. “To decide things. To tell you what you're supposed to do and how things are supposed to be? To get you to stand on one leg and make you walk backwards and hit you across the fucking face so you don't come in your damn pants? That's my whole fucking job!”

“Fuck you.” The hand lifted away. “That's all this is to you, is it? Christ, Kian, I didn't expect we were going to get married and adopt babies together. I just wanted you. I just wanted whatever this is, and now it's not fucking enough for you?” The mattress rolled as he stood up. “I'm not here because I'm your whore. I'm here because we're best friends and I love you. I respect you. I like doing nice fucking things for you because then I get to see your face light up a little bit, because I get to make you happy. You make me happy. I don't...”

Footsteps thumped around the bed. Something dropped in front of him. Kian looked down, saw the shimmer of silver chain against the dull blue hotel carpet.

“Do whatever you want with that. It obviously doesn't mean shit. Chuck it in the bin with yours, if you like.”

“Mark...”

“I'll be in Bryan's room.”

The door slammed a moment later.

Kian leaned his face in his hands and began to cry.


	19. Chapter 19

**And we can build through this destruction**

**As we are standing on our feet**

 

The show the next night was acceptable at best. Mark held it together alright. So did Kian. He'd upped the dose, though, looked like he was trying to escape into his own fog. They barely exchanged two words. The others kept looking between them as though they were waiting for an explosion of some sort. There wasn't one. It was just sort of like sliding down a hill, not knowing when he was going to hit the bottom.

They did the rest of the Middle East, headed for South Africa. It was even worse. Bryan started to look tired, and Kian knew Mark wasn't sleeping. Didn't know how to broach the subject, whether he should be checking on him. The blank, angry look he got wasn't at all encouraging. He tried to ask Bryan how he was, but only got a helpless shrug in return, like he wanted to say something but had been told not to.

He stopped bothering to get out of bed, except for when he was performing or doing interviews. There didn't seem to be much point. He couldn't go down to have lunch with the others and sit there looking at Mark. Looking at the drawn, pale face, knowing he'd put all that hurt there. Couldn't face talking to Nicky or Shane or Bryan and hearing the silence from the other corner of the table. Couldn't sit there for five minutes without wanting to burst into tears.

They got back on a plane, headed for Asia. It was almost Mark's birthday. Kian hadn't gotten him anything. Hadn't known what to get. Didn't think it would be accepted anyway.

After the Kuala Lumpur gig, two days before Mark's birthday, Nicky cornered him.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing.” Kian looked down at his feet, not wanting the accusing glare. He didn't have the energy. Didn't have the energy for any of it. He just wanted to go. “Everything's fine.”

“Then why the fuck haven't I seen either of you for two weeks? Neither of you come to lunch. I don't even see you until the gig, and you both look like shit.”

“Mark hasn't been going to lunch?”

“You'd know if you ever fucking came!” Nicky growled, exasperation written clear across his face. “This is bullshit, Kian. It's fucking unprofessional as hell. You sounded terrible last night. Mark's forgetting half the dances. It's bullshit. We're all sick of it.”

“Leave it, Nicky.” Kian shook his head, already starting to walk away. He wanted to be tucked up in bed, not dealing with what other people wanted from him. “It's not your business.”

“It is my fucking business!” Nicky cut in front of him. Kian tried to step around him. He just wanted to get to the car, go back to the hotel, get on the tour bus, and become part of the bed. Get back up when this whole thing was over. “Bryan won't fucking tell me what's going on, but when I knock on the door all I can hear is crying. This is our _job_. You're my mates. That makes it my business.”

“Leave me alone!”

“No.” There was a voice from behind him. Shane was stood in the hall, his arms crossed against his chest. “It's crap, Kian. You were practically his shadow for ages, and now you can't be in the same room?”

“It's fine!”

“It's not fucking fine!” Shane shook his head, stepping a little closer. “What's wrong with Mark? And what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I'm telling you I'm fucking fine. I'm telling you to leave me alone. All I want is for you is to get out of my way.”

Nicky stepped aside, leaned back against the wall.

“Off you go, then.” He nodded towards the door. “Should I bother asking if you'll be at Mark's birthday?”

Kian stared at him for a second. Didn't know what to say without throwing a punch. His feet moved, carrying him past and out into the night. He climbed into the car. Bryan climbed in a few minutes later, sitting against the other window.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Kian replied, looking out the window as the car began to move. “Nobody else wanted to ride with me, did they?”

“Nope.” Bryan shook his head. “Everyone's in the other car.”

“Fuck.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to figure out what to say. “Is he okay?”

“Not really.” Bryan grimaced. “Won't get out of bed much. I just leave the TV on, let him get on with it.” He hesitated slightly. “Did something like...” He swallowed, glancing at the partition between them and the driver, lowered his voice a little. “Did you two break up?”

“What?” Kian turned, surprised. Bryan shrugged.

“You know. I don't know. I had a feeling... You two were together or something, right?”

“Or something.” Kian breathed, leaning his face against the glass. It was cold, slightly foggy with the rain. “I've fucked it all up.”

“Nah.” Bryan shook his head. “Kerry stropped out on me for two days once. I just told her I was sorry, you know? I was. I acted like a tit. I'm not gonna go chucking it all in the bin because I said some shit I didn't mean. She didn't mean it either, she was just angry.” He leaned over, patted Kian's knee. “Can you say sorry?”

“I don't think I can, no.” He shook his head. “I can't be... what he needs me to be. I don't know. It's hard to explain. I'll just let him down.”

“Oh.” Bryan leaned back against the window, looking at him. “Did you mean it? Whatever you said?”

“Sort of. Yes. No.”

“Do you love him?”

Kian sighed, closing his eyes. He didn't know how to answer that, not without giving the wrong impression.

“So, yes, then?”

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “I just don't know if that's enough.” He looked over at Bryan. “Make sure he's okay for me, yeah? As long as he's okay.”

“He's really really not.” Bryan bit his lip. “Looks like he's looking into his own head half the time. He goes into the bathroom and the shower runs for ages, and at night I hear him crying. I'm really fucking worried, Ki. Everyone's worried.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Why? You did the right thing, apparently.”

“Yeah, I did.” Kian breathed. “It was all I could think of to do.”

“Did you ask him? What he wanted?”

“It wouldn't have made a difference.”

“It might have.” Bryan shrugged. “How do you know?”

“Because.” Kian looked down at his knees. “Can we not talk about this any more? It doesn't make anything better.”

Bryan was mercifully quiet for the rest of the trip.

Kian stared out the window, watching drops of rain strike the glass.

 

*

 

The bus was quiet. Kian stared at the bottom of the bunk above his, sure he could hear Mark breathing. He felt empty, being this close but so far away. The others were all fast asleep, Bryan snoring loudly across from him, Shane above Bryan and Nicky in the back. He'd gone to bed early, pretended to be asleep when they'd all finally come down, not needing the confrontation. Mark had come down some time later, and Kian had continued pretending, listened to the familiar sounds of Mark settling in for the night.

He got up. Needed the bathroom badly after staying locked into the bed the whole time avoiding the others. This wasn't their normal tour-bus, was just a rented one for the Asian tour. He didn't like the beds as much. It probably didn't matter. He couldn't sleep anyway.

When he came out Mark was gone.

He went to climb back into bed. Knew there was no point trying to do anything about it, but then he heard the movement of him on the level above. Footsteps, heartbreaking in their familiarity. He was too used to hearing them sneaking up behind him, Mark pecking his ear and moving surreptitiously on, hearing them pad across the carpet as he made his way back to bed, pulling back the sheets and snuggling into Kian's arms.

He heard soft sobs.

He crept upstairs, poking his head around the top of the stairwell. There was a huddled figure on the low couch, wrapped in a grey blanket. He moved up a couple more steps, tried to get a better look.

The step squeaked under his foot and Mark's head shot up. He frowned, tucking himself in tighter and looking pointedly out the window.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just...” Kian shrugged, heading up properly now that he'd been spotted. “Thought I'd check on you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you.” Kian bit his lip, edging a little closer. Mark flinched away. “I never meant to hurt you.”  
  
“Good job.” Mark shot back. His eyes didn't move from the window. “It's my birthday tomorrow.” Kian checked his watch. It was after midnight.

“Happy birthday.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He rolled his eyes, tugging the blanket tighter around his neck. “It doesn't work without you. It never did. I...” He shook his head. “Go away.”

“No.” Kian sat down next to him. Felt him shrink away. “I want to help.”

“You don't get to. Not any more.”

“Marky...”

“Go. Away.” He ground out. “Seriously. Go the fuck away. I can't sit here with you and not want to just...” He shook his head. “Go away.”

“I don't want to.”

“You don't get to decide any more.” Mark bit back. “That's not your right.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” He shook his head. “I can't do this now. I'm really fucked up and I'm trying really hard not to cry in front of you. I...” His voice broke. “I love you too much.”

“I love you too.”

“No, you _don't_.” Mark turned finally. Kian caught his eyes for the first time in days, saw the red, dark circles below his eyes. “You _don't_. And I can't make you.” He shivered slightly. “I'm about to have a bit of a breakdown, okay? And I'd prefer you weren't here for it.”

“I...” Kian leaned in, tried to kiss his cheek. Mark shoved him away, his eyes spitting fire.

“Seriously?” Mark spat. “What the fuck do you think you're even doing?” Kian felt something inside himself snap.

“I'm taking what's fucking mine.” He bit back. Mark paused, studied him a moment.

“Fuck off.”

“No.” Kian grabbed his arm, wrenched him back around when he went to turn away. Mark shoved him again. “You're mine, okay?”

His face stung suddenly, whipping to the side, and when he looked back, Mark was staring in surprise at his own hand. He looked back up.

“I...”

Kian slapped him back.

Mark yelped, his head turning away from it. He growled then, shoving Kian hard, knocking him off the couch. A moment later he was on top of Kian, slapping at his face while Kian put his arms up to block it. Strikes hit his arms, and he grabbed Mark's shirt, bucking his hips. They rolled over, Kian sitting over his waist, grabbing his hands. He yanked them above Mark's head, slamming them into the carpet.

“Stop it.”

“No.” Mark growled back. “Make me.”

“Fine.” Kian pulled his wrists together, grabbed them with one hand. Felt Mark fight him for a moment. Lifted his hand back. Mark watched it go, his eyes widening. “Stop it.”

“No.” He closed his eyes. “Can't.”

“Me neither.” Kian brought his hand down. Heard Mark yelp. Then a growl. “Mine.”

“Yours.” Mark whimpered, looking up with bright, tear-filled eyes. “Yours. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry.” Kian shot back. “Don't ever be fucking sorry.” He bent down, touched his lips to Mark's, felt them stutter for a moment, then respond. “I want you. I want to want you. I need you.” He mumbled. Felt Mark arch up a little. “I want to take you to bed and...” He shook his head. “I want to take it slow. Until I can't figure out why I didn't want to.” He sat up a little, ran his fingers over the red mark appearing on his friend's cheek. “I want to love you like you deserve to be loved.”

“You can't.”

“I want to try.”

“Yeah.” Mark looked up, his eyes filling with tears again. Kian tasted salt on his lips when he kissed them away. “I...” He tugged one of his hands away, reached into the pocket of his robe. When he pulled it out silver chain was shimmering around his knuckles. “Put it back on.” He pleaded. “Please.”

“Where'd you get that?” Last time Kian had seen it was inside his own luggage, tucked up in his toiletries bag.

“Nicked it.” Mark blushed, glancing shyly away. “Wanted it back.”

Kian nodded, sitting back a little and helping him up. He took the chain, put it round his neck and clasped it at the back, running his hands down Mark's back when he was done and pulling him into a hug. Mark kissed his shoulder, clutching at him.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispered. He was held tighter. Mark's face pressed into his neck. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't say sorry.” Mark pulled back, his lips twisting into a smirk. Kian rolled his eyes, reaching out to pinch the end of his nose, twisting it playfully. “Can I kiss you?”

Kian laughed, already tugging him in.


	20. Chapter 20

**It'll run us 'til we're ragged, it'll harden our hearts**

**And love could use a day of rest before we both start falling apart**

 

He woke up with Mark in his arms, still lain on the carpet in the upstairs of the tour bus. He wasn't sure where he was for a second, but it was bright outside and he could hear movement downstairs.

Bryan poked his head through the stairwell.

“Oh, you made up then?” He smirked. Mark was still asleep against his chest, was breathing calmly and steadily. Kian rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat a little. “We've arrived, if you want to go sleep in a real bed?”

Singapore. Right. Kian looked down at the sleeping form in his arms. The parted lips, long eyelashes.

“Let him sleep a minute longer.” Kian whispered back. “He's knackered.”

Bryan nodded and retreated. He heard him talking to Shane and Nicky, shooing them off the bus before they could come upstairs and catch them. The door closed behind them a moment later.

“Mmm...” Mark mumbled against his chest. Kian stroked his hair, trying to wake him slowly. After a moment he opened his eyes, looking up. “Hey.” He croaked. Kian grinned, ruffling his hair. “Where?”

“Hotel.” Kian explained. “You want a real bed?”

“Sounds nice.” Mark closed his eyes again, snuggling in. “Tired.”

“I know. Upstairs. Bed.” He ducked his head, got a kiss that tasted of morning breath. “Sleep.”

“Sleep.” Mark echoed. “S'my birthday tomorrow.”

“I know.” He kissed him again. “Now get up.”

 

*

 

Mark took his medication, and then they slept. There was nothing else to do. They had most of the day off, didn't have to be anywhere until that night. He didn't know what Bryan was telling the others and didn't much care. He thought about doing something, but there was something so totally comfortable about waking up every few hours, seeing that face mere inches away, or pressed into his shirt. Waking with his face in Mark's chest, arms wrapped around his back, holding him protectively.

They woke. Dressed. Went to the gig. It was brilliant. Not a note or foot wrong, and when he looked over at Mark all he could see was happiness. Happiness that was his responsibility. A broad, content smile, a voice that seemed to reach the rafters. He was playing up the crowd, laughing with the others, mucking around backstage. Nicky and Shane looked surprised but pleased. Bryan was rolling his eyes approvingly.

The last notes of Flying Without Wings died away, and Kian looked down, catching dark hair plastered with sweat. They were all let down after a moment. He was pulled into a hug. Hugged Nicky next so it wouldn't look suspicious. Mark was hugging Shane.

The other three got into the first car. They climbed into the second. Held hands the whole way back.

Then they went to bed. Snuggled up under the blankets together in their pyjamas.

Kian went to sleep with his hand entwined in Mark's, soft breath on the back of his neck.

 

*

 

“Happy Birthday.” Kian whispered, saw Mark's lips curve up in a smile under closed eyes.

“Thanks.” He pulled away, flopping on his back. “God, I'm so _old_.”

“Speak for yourself!”

Mark chuckled, rolling back in. “Know what?”

“What?”

“This is the best birthday ever.” He opened his eyes, leaning in to peck Kian's nose.

“We're only three minutes into it.”

“Pretty great three minutes.” Mark shrugged. “Do you love me?”

“Yeah.”

“Even better.” He rested his head in Kian's shoulder. Kian grinned, stroking his hair.

“What do you want to do today?”

“Stay right here with you.” He yawned, his mouth opening and pressing damply to skin. Fingers slid up the back of Kian's shirt, stroking gently at the small of his back. “You're lovely.”

“You're not bad either.” Kian nodded. “You want to do something?”

“What's that?”

“Get naked?”

“Oh... yes please.” Mark looked up. “Both of us?” Kian nodded. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Kian nodded again, running his thumb over red lips then up a slightly flushed cheek. Mark pressed into it, sighing happily. “Take it slow, okay?”

“Course.” Mark was wriggling, and a moment later his pyjama bottoms were kicked over the side of the bed. “Your turn.” Kian nodded, sending his in the same direction. He looked at his friend. Not his friend. His... He didn't know what. His. Just his.

They were both still wearing t-shirts, weren't touching below the waist, and if Kian didn't think about it too hard he could pretend they were both still fully dressed. Didn't know if he wanted to.

“Shirt?”

“In a minute.” Kian bit his lip, running his hand down a long, straight nose. Mark turned, kissing the palm. “You nervous?”

“Sort of. Haven't done this before.” A bashful smile flitted over his face. “I'm fine, though. You'll take care of me.”

“Will I? That's bloody terrifying.” Kian laughed. “I've not done this either.”

“That's okay. I'm sure we'll figure it out.” Mark shrugged, reaching up to brush his knuckles up Kian's jaw. “I'm so in love with you.”

“I'm... in love with you too.” Kian whispered. Lips touched on his a moment later, gentle and coaxing. He twisted his fingers in short hair, shifting closer. Felt a hand run up his thigh and shivered.

“Okay?”

Kian nodded. The hand moulded to his hip, stroked him gently for a moment, slid up his side, under his t-shirt. He sat up a minute, dragged it off, watched Mark's eyes lock appreciatively onto the bare flesh. Felt that look sizzle over his skin then drop to his groin.

“My turn?” Kian nodded, watched Mark sit up. He tugged his shirt off, crossed his arms over his chest a moment later. Kian leant in, prying his hands back.

“Come here.” He breathed. He held both hands out, let Mark sidle into his arms. Lips met his, a bare, hairy chest pressing to his smooth one. Heard a soft moan. The blankets were still tucked up to his waist, covering everything. He moaned as well, despite his hesitation, when a tongue pushed into his mouth, teasing him effortlessly. His eyes fell closed, head tilting to accept more of it. Mark groaned this time, fingers skating up his side and over his chest, brushing over a nipple. Kian gasped, arching into it. Mark's thumb found it again, drawing torturously slow circles. The other hand ran up his thigh.

“Wanna touch you.” Mark whispered. Kian groaned. “Can I touch you?”

“Yeah.” He kissed Mark again, felt a hand close around him. It was different, this, then the other times. Altogether more intimate. Not like a bit of fun. Not like getting off. Like Mark, sitting naked next to him, touching him like there was no-one else in the world. “Oh...” Their mouths separated while Kian panted, and he buried his face in Mark's neck, trying to ground himself. The thumb left his nipple, slid around him, and then he was being pulled on top, feeling Mark hot and real beneath him.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Yeah.” He bit out, when his hips were pulled down. He ground against something hard and hot he didn't think he was ready to focus on, but then he looked down and saw Mark against him, saw the way he was throwing his head back. Felt his own eyes roll back at the sensation. “God that feels good.” He mumbled in surprise, letting his hips take up the rhythm. Mark groaned, yanking him down for another kiss.

They stumbled against each other for a moment, heat and wetness in his mouth, heat and wetness on his cock as he felt Mark leak against him. He ground back, heard a soft whimper, watched dark blue eyes fall closed.

“Oh... yes.” Mark arched up again. “I want you.”

“What do you want?”

“Want to suck you.” He gasped. “Love sucking you. You taste so good.” He caught Kian's lips again. Kian closed his eyes, not sure if he could last out until then.

“Mine.” He whispered, mostly just to remind himself.

“Yours.” Mark gulped, pushing up into him again. “Mine?”

“Yours.” Kian confirmed. He broke the connection, laughing slightly when Mark whined, looking up at Kian while he leaned on all fours over him. “Not yet.” He sat up, shuffling back. He was hard. Mark was looking at it, licking his lips in a way that was thoroughly obscene. He looked down, taking in the shape of Mark, the hard curve, the way his balls were tight and hairy underneath. He reached down, holding his breath a little until he was touching it.

Mark whimpered, pushing up.

“Yes. Ki.” He closed his eyes, head tipping back when he adjusted the grip, squeezed a little tighter.

“How do you like it?” He asked. Felt a hand close around his wrist a moment later and guide him. “Like that?”

“Ohhh...” Mark's head went back further, his lip snatched up by his teeth. Kian looked down, tried to make sense of his hand on somebody else's cock. But it was Mark, and it was fine. It felt good, in a strange way. Not because of what was in his hand, but because of the way Mark was arching, moaning in response to Kian's fingers, louder when he rubbed his thumb hesitantly over the head. “Yes.” He whimpered. “Oh god, Kian...”

Kian smirked, shuffled back a little. Then he leaned down, heard Mark's breath hitch when he kissed his belly, breathing in deep and getting the smell of him. Mark bucked up, his hands clenching on the sheets near his hips. Kissed a little lower, not ready to go there quite yet, but feeling okay about scraping his teeth around the soft skin above his groin, feeling the first suggestions of coarse hair against his tongue while he stroked Mark a little faster, heard a delighted yelp.

“Ki... oh fucking hell...” He glanced up, saw Mark watching him, his lips parted, eyes almost black. “That's... god, I'm so close.” He gulped, looking up at the ceiling for a minute, then back down. Kian trailed a little lower, let his lips touch it a little, the corner of his mouth curving up the side of the root. It was in his face now, filling his vision, and he felt a spike of lust when he saw it throb, twitch a little in the circle of his fist. He stuck out his tongue a little, tickled over the root. Heard Mark gasp.

“Love you.” Kian whispered.

“Oh... fuck, get out of the way.” Mark whimpered, his hands holding tighter to the sheets. “I can't...”

Kian sat back up, reaching out to slide his hand into Mark's, felt it grip him hard. He came a moment later. Kian stroked him through it. Watched his face, his cheeks stained with flush, swollen lip bitten hard, eyes going so wide before squeezing closed, his whole body rolling into it while he coated Kian's fingers. It was unfathomably hot. Because it was Mark. Because it was his. Because he was doing this, making Mark do this, feel this. Because he was holding Mark's hand.

Mark relaxed again a few moments later, sinking bonelessly into the sheets. Kian slid up to kiss him, wiping his hand on the sheets. Felt Mark giggle against him, and then sigh happily.

“Okay?”

“Very.” Mark stretched, looking down at himself. There was cum pooled on his belly. He ran his fingers through it, reached out to poke Kian gently on the nose. Kian pulled a face and wiped it off. Mark laughed, capturing his mouth again. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Kian snuggled into his shoulder. “You're so hot.”

“You are.” Mark looked down at himself again, poking his stomach. “I look better with clothes on.”

“You're beautiful.” Kian looked up. “You're exactly what you are, and I love the hell out of you.” Mark blushed, nuzzling into the top of his head. “That was okay. I liked doing that.”

“I liked you doing it.” Mark shrugged. Then he was sliding out, leaning over Kian. He grinned, kissing him slow and wet, like there was all the time in the world. Kian slid a hand into his hair, feeling the strands catch on his sticky fingers. “We should do it more.”

“We can do that all the time, if you like.” He cupped Mark's cheek, ran his fingers down to the only thing Mark was still wearing. Hooked his fingers through the silver chain, tugging slightly. “Mine.”

“Yours.” They exchanged a long, slow kiss. By the time Mark pulled back, Kian was hard against his belly and fingers were sliding slowly downwards. They dipped into his navel for a second, teasing. He arched up, already feeling overwhelmed. “I love you.” Mark breathed. Kian nodded back.

“I want you.”

“Good.” He glanced down, then back up again, a naughty smile on his face. “Want me to return the favour?”

 

*

 

Mark's birthday party was... well, mental was too small a word, but it was a good start. There was a karaoke machine set up in the corner, a live band, and more alcohol than Kian had ever seen in his life. Not that Mark was drinking it, but it didn't seem to be dampening his spirits. He was hugging everyone, was running around all over the place. People kept getting handcuffed to things for some reason. He wasn't even sure where the handcuffs had come from, but there was a production assistant hooked to the leg of a table. She was blind drunk, kept asking for help, but nobody wanted to tell her she just had to lift the table up and slide out. Because who wanted to be the one to ruin that sort of fun?

Kian reached up, fingering the chain around his neck. He'd put it on first thing after he'd gotten out of the shower the day before and hadn't taken it off yet. It had been gorgeous. Mark had gone down on him with the kind of enthusiasm that should be criminal, swallowing him down and licking back up his chest, whimpering and pushing against his thigh, ready to go again. So they had, grinding against each other until they'd both been on the edge. Moving slow, exchanging long, possessive kisses. Then Mark had let out a moan that was impossible in its sexiness and come all over his belly, dragging Kian over a moment later with the rocking pressure of moving hips, their mouths locked together and breathing each other in.

Then they'd had a bit of a snog in the shower, laughing and soaping each other, groping despite the fact that neither of them were going to be ready to go again for a long time. Then they snuggled up on the bed, and when he woke a few hours later Mark was running his fingers through the chain around Kian's neck, looking up at him wonderingly, and Kian couldn't not go again.

They sang happy birthday, Mark stood next to a large cake shaped like a microphone, blushing happily. He blew out all the candles, and when Shane asked what he wished for, he looked over at Kian and smiled.

Kian smiled back, feeling his whole body relax.

He was stood at the bar at almost two in the morning when Mark sidled up to him.

“Like the jewellery.” Mark murmured, a proud, stupid smile on his face. Kian laughed, turning to look at him.

“Yeah, some dickhead bought it for me.” He hooked his fingers through it, felt his thumb catch on the tiny hands. “How you feeling? You alright?”

“I'm amazing.” Mark hopped up onto a stool, waved over the bartender and got himself a coke. Kian moved a little closer, feeling hot skin press to his side through their shirts. “I'm good. I might not be tomorrow, or the next day, but...” He shrugged. “You'll be here, so it's okay.”

“I will.” Kian nodded, sneaking his hand under the bar to squeeze Mark's knee. Everyone was too drunk to notice, anyway. The production assistant was still trying to get away from the unbreakable grasp of the table leg, and people were clustered around laughing. Someone would probably help her soon, she was getting a bit agitated. “Look, even if things don't... work out. I'll be here, okay? You never have to worry about that.”

“Okay.” Mark nodded. He looked over, his eyes crawling up Kian's shirt. He licked his lips. “I want you.”

“It's your birthday. We can't leave.”

“I don't think anyone would notice, somehow.” He ducked his head, his lips moving closer to Kian's ear. “I'd quite like you to slap me again. Just hold me down and...” He broke off, shivering. “Want you.”

“Jesus.” Kian closed his eyes, willing away the sudden erection. He looked around, getting an idea. “Just a second.” He wandered away, and when he came back his pocket was a little heavier and the unfortunate woman attached to the table leg was wandering away, rubbing her wrist and looking for another drink. “You mine?”

“Yeah.” Mark raised an eyebrow, glancing down at his pocket. “Definitely.”

“Good. Stand up.”

He did, his coke left forgotten on the bar. Kian picked it up, sipped it slowly, holding eye contact. Mark bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably.

“Go back down to our room. Take off all your clothes.” He instructed. Saw Mark shudder. “Then I want you to lay down on the bed. Think of three things you want me to do to you. Think about them really hard, but don't touch yourself.” Mark closed his eyes. He exhaled slowly. Kian watched, feeling himself harden. “And when I come downstairs, I want you to tell me exactly what they were. In detail.” A hot flush stole into Mark's cheeks. Kian reached into his pocket, tugging the handcuffs out just enough that Mark could see them. “Then I'm gonna do one of them to you. Whichever one you describe the best.”

Kian pushed them back into his pocket, then glanced at his watch.

“Fifteen minutes exactly.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out his phone, and set the alarm. Put it back in. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded, his eyes dark and hooded. Kian had to stop himself kissing him on the spot. “I love you.”

“Good.” Kian grinned. “Now get downstairs.”


	21. Epilogue

**We light up the night, burn forever young**

**You know that two stars shine brighter than one**

 

Mark had gotten his sandwich perfect. Kian took a bite, watching the younger boy stand in the booth, belting out the words to Imaginary Diva. They were getting the recording in as quickly as possible so Bryan could be free to spend time with Kerry before they started promoting the album. She was only a week or so away from being due. Bryan was freaking out, kept running around everywhere buying every baby product he could get his hands on, calling her every ten minutes to see if she was okay and check that she hadn't suddenly gone into labour without telling him.

Kian tapped his foot along. He really liked this song. It had started out as something he and Nicky had been working on, just chucking out stupid lyrics and not meaning anything by it. Then Mark had a glance and suggested an old-school sort of soul, funk beat, had fiddled in a sort of syncopated rhythm that was gorgeous. They'd talked about who should sing it, and in the end both he and Nicky had agreed there was no point getting anyone else, and it became Mark's song.

“That's a cracking song.” Shane pointed out. He was sat next to him, drinking a cup of tea.

“Thanks. It sort of took on a life of it's own.” Kian shrugged. “He sounds fantastic.”

“He does. Reason for that?”

Kian shrugged, shifting in his seat. Mark was standing a little stiffly, testament to the bruises dotted over his skin. Kian had pulled him across his knee the night before and spanked the life out of him until Mark had come over his lap. Then Kian had climbed over to straddle him and come on his back, biting the back of his neck while Mark had moaned like he was falling apart, grinding into the sheets and coming again. Kian had run a bath afterwards, lay there with Mark happily slumped down between his legs, stroking his chest and whispering how much he loved him.

Then they'd gotten up this morning and gone for a run, Mark giggling and catching him halfway around the block, grabbing him around the waist and bolting past.

“No reason. He always sounds fantastic.” They'd told the lads fairly quickly. It was impossible not to, especially when they were all crammed into the bus together, being so close and not getting to touch Mark, having to settle for sneaky gropes when everyone else was asleep. Bryan had made a shocked face for the others, as though he didn't know. Shane looked like he was about to ask a bunch of inappropriate questions, and then shut up, shrugging. Nicky rolled his eyes and told them it was about bloody time.

The record company had stopped renting them the place in the city so Mark had rented himself a two-bedroom flat, needed somewhere to live while they were in Dublin. Kian still technically lived in Sligo - had all his stuff and a bed in his parents' converted garage. As far as anyone else was concerned, Mark lived there alone and Kian just crashed there when he needed to. As far as they and the lads were concerned, he paid half the rent and they'd just bought a new flatscreen TV.

Mark still had bad days. Kian wasn't naïve enough to think that love could fix everything, but it wasn't at all a hardship to cuddle up in bed with Mark on down days, step in before he got too anxious and upset over something little that anyone else would brush off. Most of the time he was fine though. Happy and smiling and snuggling into Kian's shoulder, asking for a bit of reassurance when he needed it. Asking Kian to take control. He'd convinced Mark to see a counsellor, and it was starting to help a bit, getting him to deal with some of the things Kian didn't have the clinical knowledge to understand.  They'd changed up his medication a bit too, got him on something that was more level, that he could take all the time without feeling too out of it.

They all clapped him when he came out, and he blushed beautifully, grinning wide. Shane got up and went in to take his place. They were going to sort out I Wanna Grow Old With You and Love Crime today, maybe Reason For Living if they had time.

Mark sank back down in Shane's seat, glancing over.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Kian reached under the table, squeezed his knee. “Thanks for the sandwich. It's perfect.”

“I know.” Mark shrugged so carelessly Kian wanted to kiss him. “I'm thinking about getting a drink. Do I want Lemon Fanta or Sprite?”

“I think you want Lemon Fanta.” Kian ran a hand up his thigh, then pulled it away. He knew Mark would want Lemon Fanta, he usually did. “Do you want some money?”

“Got my own.” He tucked his hand into his pocket. Kian heard coins jingle. “You want to order a Chinese tonight?”

“Sure.” Kian nodded. “You order. Pick what you know I'd like.”

“Okay.” A warm, soft body swayed towards him for a moment, and Kian knew he'd just aborted an automatic attempt to lay his head on Kian's shoulder. He shuffled closer instead, their thighs pressing together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Kian whispered, glancing around in case they were heard. But the tech guys all had headphones on. “Want to do something for me?” He felt Mark shiver, moved his hand up a little higher.

“Always.” Mark whispered.

Kian bent against his ear, feeling Mark warm and willing against him.

His.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit's due...
> 
> Ch1: Beautiful Girls are the Loneliest - McBusted  
> Ch2: Dare You To Move - Switchfoot  
> Ch3: We're All in This Together - Ben Lee  
> Ch4: Strong Enough to Break - Hanson  
> Ch5: Dark Places - Gaslight Anthem  
> Ch6: It Can't Come Quickly Enough - Scissor Sisters  
> Ch7: Ready To Run - One Direction  
> Ch8: Believe - Ronan Keating  
> Ch9: Love Is Easy - McFly  
> Ch10: Everything You Want - Vertical Horizon  
> Ch11: Reach Out - Westlife  
> Ch12: About You - Shane Filan  
> Ch13: So Beautiful - Darren Hayes  
> Ch14: Slow it Down - Goo Goo Dolls  
> Ch15: Now Comes The Night - Rob Thomas  
> Ch16: Falling Slowly - Once OST  
> Ch17: Wanted - Kian Egan (Hunter Hayes)  
> Ch18: Love Is A Drug - Markus Feehily  
> Ch19: Follow Through - Gavin DeGraw  
> Ch20: Raining On Sunday - Keith Urban  
> Epilogue: Light Up The Night - Boyzone


End file.
